


Magical Diary: An Untold Tale

by Esmeh (MissDelight)



Category: Magical Diary
Genre: Action/Adventure, Assassins & Hitmen, Epic, F/M, Humor, Love, Mystery, Romance, Wizards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-04-29 01:44:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5111768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDelight/pseuds/Esmeh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the game concluded Gwen was finally coping with being married to one of her professors - and not just any professor, the meanest, grumpiest one at Iris Academy - Hieronymous Grabiner. Their fateful story continues as strange forces conspire against the Grabiner family in an action packed, romantic adventure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sitting outside a coffee shop, Gwen happily tapped her feet in rhythm with the music playing on her MP3 player. The song was called "Spring", which she mused was a perfect contrast with the current weather.  It was a typical New Hampshire day - the sky was a bright shade of gray and all around her was a light pitter-patter of rain on the concrete.  At odd intervals, the sun would furtively poke out from behind some clouds, before quickly hiding once more.  Perfect weather in her book.

A wrinkled piece of paper sat on the table in front of her; a letter from her husband. It was soft and worn from many readings.

Sipping her latte, she held it up once more to examine it.

_Gwen,_

_I received your missive by courier earlier this week. The regular post is not in service whilst school is on holiday. I was gratified to hear you are continuing with your studies over the vacation._

_Iris Academy is essentially dormant. My lesson plans are complete, so I have wiled away many afternoons catching up on literature._

_You inquired which music I enjoy most. I appreciate many composers, but if I had to choose, I most prefer Vivaldi. You might take pleasure in his set of four concertos, "The Four Seasons". It is among his most popular works._

_I must conclude my letter for now; a teachers’ meeting is approaching and I have a series of errands to run. I shall write more next weekend._

_Regards,_

_Hieronymous_

Gwen gently refolded the letter, giving it a gentle squeeze and returning it to her pocket. School had been out for several weeks, and the time had moved slowly for her. She wished she had a picture of her former professor and present husband. Details about him were already difficult to recall; the way he smiled when he would chuckle quietly, the rich tone of his voice, and how his eyes could blaze with internal fire when he was deeply fascinated.

"Hey, Gwen!" a cheerful voice called out.

Gwen jumped up to see her friend Jun quickly jogging over from a red car in the parking lot, jacket held overhead to shield her from the rain. Jun wasted no time swooping her up in a tight hug as soon as she was under the awning.

"It's so good to see you again! It's been forever, sister."

Jun always enjoyed referring to Gwen, and all her close female friends, as 'sister'.  Gwen, was an only child and felt flattered by the nickname, she returned it in kind.  Jun was tall and slim, and although she possessed predominantly Japanese characteristics, she had a unique look that was all her own.  Some Korean, a little Cherokee, and a splash of Anglo-Saxon.

"It's good to see you, too!" Gwen exclaimed, fiercely hugging her back.

As they sat down at the table, Jun slipped a brightly colored purple bag with silver tissue paper peeking over the edges in front of her with a proud grin.

"Happy Birthday," Jun said, glancing from her to the package with gleeful anticipation, looking eager for her to see its contents.

"My birthday's not until next week,” Gwen said, her cheeks flushing red from the attention.

"I couldn’t wait that long,” Jun said, clapping her hands together.  “I haven't seen you in forever, stranger. And besides, these days I'm a responsible, financially independent, member of society. Meaning I make decent money at my job. And, get a good discount to boot. Now, open it, open it!"

Gwen obliged.  Digging within the tissue paper, she removed a bottle of perfume followed by a makeup kit.

"Trying to make me into a girly-girl?" Gwen asked with a laugh.

Jun gave her a mockingly, stern look. "I've known you for four years, Gwenievere Ford. And not once have I seen you doll yourself up in makeup or perfume. So, I thought to myself, ‘maybe she just doesn't have any’. Well, now that's been rectified, I expect to see a letter from school telling me how you've been beating them away with a stick."

"Thanks Sis,” Gwen said sincerely, setting the gifts back in the bag.  “I’m sure these will come in handy."

"Yeah, no problem,” Jun said, sitting back in her chair.  “So, catch me up.  Anything new happening?  What’s going on in your life?"

Gwen had been carefully considering how to answer that for a few days. Parts of her new life had to remain secret from old friends and family. Specifically, that she had just completed her first year at Iris Academy, a school for those gifted in magic. Keeping wizardry a secret from the rest of the world was something the magic community took very seriously. Breaking that law carried with it a heavy consequence: your magic and memory instantly and irrevocably stripped away. Which made the subject of her marriage, and especially its circumstances, off-limits.

"Well..." Gwen began in a conspiratorial whisper, motioning Jun closer.  "The truth is, I'm not actually attending boarding school."

"Really?” Jun asked curiously.  “Where are you going?"

"I'm secretly attending…” Gwen began, pausing for dramatic emphasis.  “Hogwart's School for Witchcraft and Wizardry! And you wouldn't believe it, but through a series of strange events, I accidentally married the potion's master, Severus Snape!"

"Joker," Jun said with a laugh, leaning back in her chair. “You totally had me going there.”

Gwen chuckled.

"Boarding school is nice. It gets a bad wrap in the movies, but I like it. I’ve made some close friends."

"That's good, I was concerned,” Jun said.  “I was worried it might be like a boot camp or jail. So, is it like normal schools in most ways? Does it have a library, student clubs, dances?"

"Well, we have a library but it's pretty small,” Gwen said with a twinge of disappointment.  “As for clubs, my roommate Virginia started a sports club.  Ellen- my other roommate- and I both joined. It's a lot of fun. There's also a drama club and a choir, but I've never been a fan of performing in front of a crowd."

"You still haven't answered my question about dances," Jun said, fishing for gossip.

Gwen rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out.

"Yes, there are dances. No, I didn't go to any. Satisfied?"

"Oh come on,” Jun said, prodding for information.  “You're in the prime of your life. You mean to tell me you don't have your eye on anyone?"

Gwen could feel her cheeks betraying her as they began to burn once more.

"Ah-hah," Jun said, placing her chin in her hand and looking at her with interest.  “There is someone.”

"Well, sort of...” Gwen mumbled into her latte, taking a drink.  “But we're honestly not dating."

 _It's technically true,_ she thought. _We're_ definitely _not dating_.

"So, you like him... obviously,” Jun said, perking up at the mysterious admission.  “Does he like you?"

Gwen gave a little sigh.

"That is the million dollar question," she said, setting her cup back down.

"Ah." Jun said, pausing thoughtfully before continuing.  "Well, if he doesn't sweep you off your feet soon then he's a dummy who doesn't deserve you," she said firmly, flashing her a supportive smile.

"Thanks, Jun," Gwen said sincerely.

It was nice to talk to an old friend, even if the big topics of her life were off-limits. Jun had a knack for saying the right thing, and Gwen already felt a weight lifting from her shoulders she hadn’t known was there.

They talked outside the coffee shop until the sun began to set, and then Jun drove her home.

"I'm glad we had a chance to catch up,” Jun said.  “It's a shame I'll be out of town next week. I wanted to celebrate your seventeenth birthday."

Gwen shook her head. "It's no big. I'll eat a piece of cake for you. Have fun on vacation!"

"Alright,” Jun said, giving her a parting hug.  “I promise I'll sip a tropical drink on the beach for you!"

Waving goodbye from the front porch until Jun was out of sight, Gwen sighed, watching her go.  A sudden tingle across her spine caused her to freeze in place. She could feel a pair of eyes following her.  A shiver ran through her body as she sensed the source of her discomfort; blue magic.

Someone was scrying her.

Now that she was aware of it, thinking back, she felt certain it had been going on for some time- that she had merely dismissed it before as a fleeting sensation or possibly a rush from caffeine. Standing completely still, a cold sweat forming on her back, she raised a hand with the intent of casting a shield spell but found the eyes had gone.  She was alone on the porch.

With no idea who would want to spy on her, there was nothing she could do about the encounter for the time being, so she tried to put it out of her mind before entering the house.

Her parents looked up from the TV as they heard the door close.  Hitting pause on the remote control, Gwen’s father greeted her.

"Welcome home, honey. Did you have fun with Jun?"

Gwen plopped down on the couch, sitting beside her mother.

"Yep. We had so much to catch up on. She's doing well, managing a store in the mall. What are you guys watching?"

"Some old episodes of Columbo," her father replied.

Her mother pointed to Gwen's bag.

"An early birthday present?"

"Yeah,” Gwen said with a chuckle.  “Jun gave me some make-up and perfume."

"Oh dear," her mother said, looking suddenly concerned. "Is it time we had the talk?"

Gwen's face fell, uncertain if her mother was being serious or not.

"Uhhhh... the talk?  Not the talk I’m thinking of, I hope."

"Oh you know," her mother replied.  “About the birds and the bees?”

Gwen felt her stomach do a flip as she wished she could use a Teleportation spell to escape the room.

Her mother finally laughed.

"Oh sweetie, I was just kidding. You should see the look on your face. I know you learned the facts at school a long time ago."

Gwen heaved a sigh of relief, pouring herself a glass of water from the pitcher on the coffee table.

"However, you’re a young woman now.  I wouldn’t be doing my job as a mother, if I didn't tell you to be careful,” she said, as Gwen sipped her drink.  “I may come from a different generation, but I really think you young people should wait until marriage."

Gwen choked on her water at the sudden and unexpected mention of marriage, but managed to avoid spitting it out.

"Are you alright?" her mother asked, patting her on the back.

"Fine, fine," she coughed.  Feeling her traitorous cheeks starting up again, she nervously blurted out, "I think I'm going to head to bed. Love you guys!" before either of her parents could draw the wrong conclusion about what was making her embarrassed.

After a quick hug with each of her parents, she scurried upstairs to her room.

"Love you, too," her father said, laughing at her hasty retreat.

"Sweet dreams!" her mother called after her.

Shutting the door of her bedroom behind her, she leaned back against it and let out a sigh.

"'Wait for marriage' she says..." Gwen repeated, pressing her palms against her forehead.  “If only she knew.  It sounds like she’s encouraging me.”

Taking a pair of pajamas from her dresser, she had an internal chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all, and entertained the thought of telling Hieronymous about in her next letter.  At that, she laughed out loud, as she thought the idea through, and realized he probably wouldn’t appreciate it.

Pulling on her favorite pajamas- a short sleeved shirt and pants combination of soft white fabric, with faded blue floral print- she reflected on her vacation so far.  

At school she had felt like she was growing away from her parents and her old life.  Perhaps it was a result of the enchantment magic used to convince them she was attending a boarding school and not a school for magic, but her parents had seemed to forget she existed while she was gone.  Out of sight, out of mind; like she had been nothing more than a dream.  Spending the last several weeks at home, she hadn't exactly reconnected with them as much as she would have liked. There had been too many secrets between them.

However, despite everything, it had been nice.  

It felt like they had begun to establish a new, if not tenuous, connection.  A sort of understanding that they loved each other, even though they had been drifting apart since her life had taken a new turn.  Part of her apprehensively wondered if it this too would disappear when she went back to school.

Gwen stretched out on her bed, staring out the window and up at the stars.

Only 150 miles away, her husband might be staring at the same sky, she mused.

_I wonder what he's thinking about right now?_

She rolled up on her elbows as she pictured the messy brown haired object of her affection.

 _He's an enigma.  Intelligent, passionate... and extraordinarily hard to get close to.  His temper is fiery and quick, but he's also a gentleman at heart.  And then there’s that stubborn pride of his…_ she thought, trailing off with a chuckle.

Rolling onto her back, she turned a thoughtful gaze toward the ceiling.

 _January 26th._   _Exactly a year and a day from when we were married._ The date seemed all too close for her taste.   _The last day we're required to stay married to complete our contract that protects me from the manus that would love nothing more than to devour my soul._

Her memory drifted back to the day it had all begun, every detail ingrained in her memory.

Glowing, blue runes had littered the floor of the room where she found Hieronymous lying unconscious with a terrible, blue creature poised above him.  ‘Run away little girl,’ it had said, ‘this meat is mine and I intend to feast’.  It had deceived her into thinking it meant to kill him and she had taken the bait without a second thought.  Blindly jumping into the summoning circle and past the protective warding around it.  She had tried to pull Hieronymous to safety, but it had taken only a moment for the devil to grab her by the throat and begin gloating over her naivety.

Luckily, Professor Potsdam had appeared at that moment by some stroke of luck, convincing it to spare her because she was "sworn" to become part of the family it protected- the house of Grabiner.

Hieronymous had come to then, quickly taking in the situation, and playing along.  Swearing an oath to wed her that afternoon.

And once an oath was sworn by a witch or a wizard, nothing could undo it.

The penalty was the same for exposing magic to outsiders; all magic stripped, and memories permanently removed.

Gwen’s thoughts drifted back to the present.  Being married to Hieronymus was something she had become fond of.  He had finally begun opening up to her; something he didn’t do with anyone, as far as she could tell.  It was beyond hope that he would want to stay married, but she dreaded the thought that he would disappear the moment their contract was complete.

She was close to certain her feelings were not one-sided.

On the last day of school, she had revealed how deeply she cared for him.

He had actually kissed her ever so gently, in a friendly manner.  He had suggested they write to each other.

But did he see her in a romantic light?  Or, did he look at her and merely see a student with a crush?  At the very least, when all was said and done, she wanted to be his friend.  Someone whom he could rely upon.

She wasn't sure when she had fallen asleep, but she found herself dreaming of Iris Academy.  Her footsteps echoed through the dark halls, dimly lit by patches of moonlight, as she walked the familiar path to the room she did the accounting in.  All was peaceful and still.

As she breathed in the cold air, she let it fill her lungs with its chill.

Then, suddenly, something was wrong.

She knew it in her bones before she heard it.

It started with a faint noise coming from nearby.  Swallowing nervously, she continued down the dark hall, the noise becoming louder with every step she took.

Someone was screaming, the sound muffled behind the door she found herself standing before.  Blue light was spilling across the floor at her feet from the crack beneath the door.  Bracing herself, she reached out with a trembling hand, but before could touch the door handle, the door flung open on its own.

The screaming was suddenly amplified, the sound coursing throughout her body, making her heart beat in fear.

Hieronymous was collapsed to his knees, screaming in pain, as blue runes spun rapidly beneath him.  An all too familiar sinister laugh made her blood run cold. The manus floated over him, larger than life, his booming, bass laughter deafening in her ears.

She sat straight up in bed screaming, her clothes drenched in sweat. Hieronymous' voice was still ringing in her mind, shouting her name.  Recognizing the Far Speak spell, she realized she hadn’t dreamt his voice at all.

Flinging off the covers, she was on her feet in a heartbeat, summoning all of her strength. She had never tried a spell this difficult before.  She had no idea if it would even work.  Running on pure, fear-driven-adrenaline, the words left her mouth so fast she could barely comprehend them.  It still felt too slow.  As her hands moved through the signs to finish the spell in a blur, she couldn’t help feeling like she was going to be too late.

She finished the incantation, accenting the last word as hard as she could, throwing all the force she could into her teleportation.

Her eyes glowed softly blue in contrast to the black room, and then she was gone.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Warning: Brief but graphic violence.

* * *

 

Gwen’s teleportation spell ended abruptly, landing her painfully on a hardwood floor at high speed.  When she finally came to a stop, everything ached and she coughed hard, trying to refill the air that had been forced from her lungs at the impact. Temporarily blinded by blue light, she tried to make use of her other senses, but all she was aware of was a ringing in her ears.  As her head began to clear she could make out voices and see blue runes dancing in quick circles beneath a manus and Hieronymous through blurred vision.

"...welcome to the Otherworld, son of Grabiner!" the manus gloated with a sinister laugh.

Groaning, Gwen pushed herself into a crouch, blinking as things came into focus. Rubbing her eyes in disbelief, she watched Hieronymous' body flicker, disappearing and reappearing.

“Hieronymous?” she managed to ask in a sharp breath as she rose unsteadily to her feet.  Gwen’s brows knit together as she noticed his teeth were clenched and his face was contorted with agony.

The manus shifted his gaze from Hieronymous to Gwen, and as he recognized her, his red eyes widened.

"You!" he said with a wicked grin.  "The foolish girl from before."

His mocking laughter echoed throughout the room making Gwen’s gaze narrow angrily.

"Come, cross the wards that bind me, save your husband, if you dare! This time his peril is no bluff, little girl," he taunted, flashing a fanged grin.

He was baiting her into crossing the wards.  

 _Again_ , she thought, clenching her hands into fists.  

Outside of the magical circle she was perfectly safe.  But the moment she set foot across the wards, the manus could kill her.  Or worse.

Technically, it should not be capable of harming a Grabiner, but looking at Hieronymous, something had clearly changed.

Gwen desperately looked around the room for something she could use as a weapon and grabbed the only pointed object.

An umbrella.

Slashing it through the air, she held it between herself and the manus with grim determination.  She imagined how she looked; a sixteen year old girl in pajamas, wielding an umbrella.

A wicked grin crossed the manus' face, revealing a row of sharp, white teeth, as he beckoned her to cross the wards with his sharp talons.

Muttering a chant, Gwen momentarily glowed green, her muscles gaining definition.

Gripping the cane shaped handle tight, she charged forward with the umbrella, screaming furiously.

The manus didn't even bother to dodge her, laughing hysterically and gloating words at her she couldn't hear over her attack cry.  At the very last second he saw a glow of black magic followed by the flash of steel.  In shock, he looked down at Gwen and the sword buried deep in his left shoulder.

The manus' blood splashed across the floor as she withdrew her sword, causing it to roar furiously in pain and anger.

Retreating back and circling to the side, Gwen tried to put as much distance between their fight and Hieronymous as possible.

"INSOLENT WRETCH!" the manus screamed, lashing at her with its claws.

Gwen held up her umbrella-shaped sword in time to block a fatal blow aimed at her neck. Razor-sharp, blue talons raked across her left shoulder instead, making her yell in pain.

She gratefully felt the green magic still coursing in her body, making her quick on her feet.  Before the manus could strike a second blow, Gwen swung down hard in a swift arc using all of her enchanted might, cleaving her sword through the manus' right arm.

The blue demon roared in pain as its limb fell to the ground at Gwen’s feet.

As she drew back, preparing for a killing blow, their eyes met and the manus' widened in fear.  With a vicious thrust she lunged toward its heart, but was left slashing through thin air as it vanished in a bright flash.

 _Your husband's soul is_ mine, the blue demon whispered in her mind with cruel satisfaction.   _I’m sure we'll meet again in the Otherworld._

The summoning circle vanished, leaving only moonlight to illuminate the room in the absence of the spell’s brilliant, blue glow.

To Gwen’s horror, she found Hieronymous was still fading in and out despite the disappearance of the manus.

Dropping her sword to the ground, it instantly turned back into an umbrella as she raced over to him.

In his agony Hieronymous didn't seem to be aware of her presence, gripping his shoulders tightly and shaking violently from head to toe.  

Not knowing what else to do, she took a chance the next time his body appeared solid, reaching out and grabbing hold of him.

The moment she clutched both of his arms, there was an immediate sensation she could only describe as a _pulling,_ gripping her from the inside.  A strange and terrible cold made her shiver, as she felt- and could fleetingly see- a strange, dark nothingness, drawing Hieronymous away from her.

Digging her heels in, she held him tighter, trying to to use magic to pull him back from the hungry void.  But felt she was losing her grip on him magically and physically, as his body was became more ethereal by the second.

"Please!" she screamed at him, heart hammering in her chest.  "Hieronymous!"

Her eyes began to sting as she imagined losing him forever, here and now, unable to do anything to stop it.  His form had become so faint that she could see through him like a ghost.

"Please," she repeated in a choked, helpless sob, holding his face in her hands.

She watched as his expression changed, as the fire in his eyes won out over the pain. She felt the pull over him begin to gradually lessen, as he helped her fight against it.  Body shaking, he forced his hands from his shoulders and clutched his arms around her in a bone-crushing embrace. She felt the grip of his magic likewise wrapping around her as she felt what she imagined was Hieronymous tethering himself to the normal world, using her as an anchor. Gwen poured every scrap of magic she had left into helping him push away from the darkness, feeling him do the same.  She could sense his power easily dwarfed hers by comparison, the difference between them immense.

In a rush they were free from the current of magic that had been threatening to envelop Hieronymous.  For a moment they both stood, gasping for air, still holding onto one another for dear life.  

Hieronymous was dangerously pale.  Covered in sweat, there was blood trailing down both of his arms from where he had dug in with his nails.

Gwen's shoulder bled from where the manus' claws had made contact and her left leg was throbbing painfully along with numerous other parts of her body, presumably from her impromptu Teleportation across a vast distance.

She had used blue, green, black, and white magic – more than she should have been capable of - and she could feel it catching up with her.

For the moment, Gwen let relief wash over her and enjoyed the tight, warm embrace around her, contentedly listening to the beating heart in the chest rising and falling beneath her cheek.

"Hieronymous..." she whispered, saying his name with all the relief she felt that he was safe.  Exhaustion caught up with Gwen in what felt like a massive wave, dragging her down, and she let herself fall into a deep and blissful sleep.

* * *

Warm sunlight burned the back of Gwen's eyelids.  

She put a hand over her face with a sleepy groan, trying to block it out.  It was still summer vacation, so she could afford to sleep in.  Besides, she thought with a grin, she had been dreaming something about Hieronymous. Maybe if she fell back asleep she could pick-up where she had left off.

But there was no ignoring the blinding sunlight no matter how she tried.  Finally, resolving herself to getting up and closing the curtains, she sat up.

And then immediately laid back down as she was greeted by pain, nausea, and dizziness.  

Hissing sharply, she bunched her fists into the blankets, noting the fabric felt oddly different.  They even smelled different.  Starchier.  With no trace of flowery fabric softener.  

Something else tugged at the back of her mind.

Then it clicked.

Didn't the light usually shine in from the opposite side of her room?

Opening her eyes, Gwen looked around a familiar room, but not her own.

Beside her, Hieronymous sat asleep in an arm chain, apparently taken from the nearby desk covered in neatly arranged tomes and scrolls.

The desk made her realize where she was, making her look around in wide-eyed amazement.

She was in his room.  Sleeping in his bed.

Gwen wondered if she was dreaming.

A painful throbbing in her left shoulder and leg quickly answered her question.

Shocked and a little elated at where she was, she looked back over at Hieronymous sleeping in his chair.  He looked so peaceful and handsome, with his thick, black hair tousled messily around his face.  Even sleeping in such an awkward position, he still somehow managed to look refined.  

She stared longingly at him, wanting to brush the hair from his eyes and tuck it behind his ear, or stroke his face, or kiss him lovingly on the cheek.  Her heart ached to treat him the way a real wife would a real husband.

She wondered if he had heard her thoughts, as Hieronymous blinked and stretched, waking up from his sleep.  The first thing he did was groan in what sounded like contempt aimed at the entire world, making Gwen stifle a laugh.

_I wonder if he always sounds that way when he wakes up?_

She smiled at the thought.

"Good morning," she said.

Hieronymous raised his dark eyebrows at the sound of her voice.

"Ah, you are awake," he said with evident relief.  His voice was lovely as always, dark and rich with a refined British accent.  Hieronymous rubbed his temples with one hand, trying to dispel away the final remnants of sleep. "How are you feeling?"

"Terrific," Gwen said with pleasant sarcasm. "You know, aside from all of the pain."

Hieronymous leaned forward and placed an elbow on his knee while he moved his other hand in arcane gestures and muttered a Diagnosis spell.

"You were truly fortunate.  There does not appear to be any permanent damage. Professor Potsdam will be able to affect a complete recovery.  She should arrive before nightfall."

His voice was raspy and tired.  

She frowned at the dark circles under his eyes and the way his thick locks of hair hung in a complete disarray.  

She looked around his room while she unraveled the tangled web of her thoughts.  Not much had changed since she last visited.  Visiting him to talk on the weekend had been the highlights of her year.  She loved how peaceful and organized his living quarters were.

A large window diffused sunlight through white curtains.  The bed was a four-poster with drapery matching the curtains.  A clean desk sat beside the bed on one side and a nightstand on the other.  The desk prominently displayed a feathered quill pen beside an ink well,as well as stacks of blank paper.  On his nightstand sat a pile of thick books with colorful spines, probably for some ‘light’ bedtime reading, all of them embroidered with long, golden titles.  Most curiously, beside the books was a long, wooden box, the contents of which she was unsure of.

Gwen wished she were there socially, to talk to him and while away the afternoon like they used to.  She reflected on the circumstances that had brought her there.

She could remember teleporting, fighting the manus, and seeing Hieronymous nearly disappear before her eyes.

 _But_ , she wondered, _what was the manus even doing here in the first place?_

"Last night..." Gwen began.

Hieronymous’ mouth instantly twisted into a sour expression.

"What happened last night?" she asked.

A raspy growl escaped his lips as he acidically said, "Historic incompetence."

Gwen shot him an uncertain but venomous look, to which he merely raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Oh," he said after a moment’s consideration.  "I was not attributing that to you.  I was referring to myself.   _However_ , on the subject of your actions last night," he said sharply, glaring disapprovingly.  "What you did was the grandest display of foolish bravado and short-sighted heroism I have ever seen.  Trumping even your last reckless gesture- a feat I had thought insurmountable.  You are astonishingly lucky you did not perish.  I cannot begin to fathom what possessed you to attempt what you did."

Gwen looked down, hurt by the frustration and disappointment in his voice.  He didn’t want her getting hurt or killed for him.  She understood that.  There was too much guilt on his conscience already, she well-knew.  But what stung even more when she thought about it, was that he would rather she had stayed out of it and let him die, than try to save him.

"Nonetheless, it was my errors in judgment that put you in the situation.  Again.  You selflessly risked your life to save mine… again.  I just wish I could find a way to impress upon you the danger of your actions.”  He sighed and settled back in his arm chair.  "I took a vow to protect you from harm.  I will not be able to do that if you keep jumping into these kinds of situations."

"Likewise," she said with a cynical smile.

"A fair point," he replied, looking cross with himself. "You should know, you only defeated that manus out of surprise. They are not often attacked by young women in night attire wielding umbrellas.”

"You saw that?" Gwen asked, biting her lip as she felt her cheeks begin to burn.

Hieronymous smirked despite himself.

"I was vaguely aware of the events around me, enough to notice a small blur in pajamas wielding an umbrella against a _much_ larger, blue blur,” he said, his rich, low voice taking on a playful, mocking tone.

Her cheeks flushed, as she wondered if he also remembered her embracing him.  Pleading and crying in a desperate attempt to save him.

"Hieronymous, may I ask you something?"

"Hm?" he replied sleepily.

"What on Earth were you doing last night?"

It came out more harshly that she had meant it to.

But, she honestly couldn't believe he had summoned the manus again.  He was infamous at Iris Academy for valuing safe magical practices above all else.  And she was one of the few people that knew on a more personal note, Hieronymous was deeply motivated to terrify students into being safe.  It was what he lived for.  Saving children from making the same mistakes that had cost him the one thing he loved most in the world.  A young woman named Violet.

Gwen shook her head, astounded.  She wasn’t about to let him get away with a double standard when it came to his own safety.

There was a tick in Hieronymous’ jaw, and she wondered if his pride would prevent him from answering.  She was slightly surprised when he spoke.

"I was performing a complicated experiment.  I don’t know how, but I either lost control or inadvertently surrendered control to the manus.  It took hold of my soul and tried to force me into its realm; to the Otherworld.  Resisting that force…” he paused, frowning at the recalled memory.  “It was severing my soul from my body."

Gwen’s brow creased as she tried to imagine how that must have felt.

"What went wrong?  I thought it was supposed to be a family guardian!  That it couldn't harm you."

"It should not have been able to do what it did," Hieronymous agreed.  “It appears my experiment was unsuccessful.”

Gwen's expression soured.  His experiment seemed a higher priority than his life.  The hypocrisy made her want to punch him.

"As for you,” he continued, “it should not be able to come devour your soul. Our marriage still protects you.  However, once you attacked it, you negated the part of its oath to not physically harm you."

"Terrific.  It can just rip me to shreds the next time we bump into each other.  Would it be too much to hope for, that you’ll stop summoning it now?  Or are you trying to kill yourself, Hieronymous?!" Gwen said, voice rising into a shout.  Hieronymous opened his mouth indignantly to say something, but she continued. "Why were you summoning it by yourself anyway?  Last time, you wound up out cold on the ground, it grabbed me by the neck when I wandered in to ‘save’, and Professor Potsdam barely arrived in the nick of time to save me with quick thinking.  What made you think this time wouldn’t end in disaster?"

Hieronymous scowled at her, and she could see his temper brewing beneath the surface.  She mused that he was almost certainly furious because she was right and he knew it.

"I was sure I had discovered where I went wrong the first time.  However, something was different last night.  Something had changed."

Gwen forced herself to sit up, ignoring the pain of her injuries, and looked him in the eyes.

"Well, I can't pretend to understand the inner workings of magic; in that regard I'm only your student.  However, as your wife, and even just as a friend, what you were doing was very foolish."  She shook her head at him.  "Especially for you."

Hieronymous shot back a terse reply without hesitation.

"It might have been foolish of me, but as your professor, I expect you to defer to my knowledge of magic,” he said.  “And as your husband, I expect you to respect me, rather than chiding me because you think you are right."

"I do respect you, but you could have died," Gwen replied sharply, and for a moment she thought her words managed to pierce Hieronymous' defenses, seeing a flicker in his expression.  "Being respected and keeping your pride are two different things, Hieronymous.”

With a frustrated sigh he locked his dark eyes on hers.

"Very well. You are absolutely right. Satisfied?" he asked with feigned sincerity.

Gwen took a deep breath, biting down on her tongue to hold back the reply she sorely wanted to give him.

"I didn't come here to argue with you," she snapped.  "I'm only here because you called my name with the Farspeak Spell.  You sounded like you needed help, so here I am.  For the record, I was sleeping peacefully before you woke me up."

"Is that so?" he replied flatly.  His gaze never wavered from her glare, his dark eyes more stubborn than she had imagined anyone capable of.

With an angry sigh, Gwen gave up and rolled over in bed, facing her back to him.  Her leg hurt too much to hobble back to her room, and he was probably determined to keep an eye on her anyway, so they were stuck together for now.  He probably wouldn’t take the bed even if she offered it to him, but she told herself she was keeping it out of spite now anyway.

Hieronymous remained silent for a long while and she began to wonder if he had fallen asleep again.

She was startled to hear him speak.

"I am not particularly certain how I ended up calling for you.  Parts of last night are difficult for me to remember," he began.  She looked over her shoulder to see him staring fixedly out of the window. "I do not remember using the Farspeak Spell."

Gwen shrugged, her back still turned to him.

"Maybe you didn’t know what you were doing.  People do funny things, when their soul is getting ripped from their body, I imagine.  You were probably thinking, ‘at least Gwen’s not here this time’, and somehow it backfired on you.  I’m chalking this whole thing up as a miss dial.  You probably could have called anyone,” she said, rolling back over to face him.  The anger between them was forgotten, the atmosphere friendly once more.  Gwen carefully choose her next words, wanting to put his mind at ease.  “I’m not reading into you calling me as a declaration of love or anything like that, so don’t worry about it.”

Hieronymous blinked in surprise.  

Apparently he hadn’t considered her taking it that way, she thought with amusement.  He always seemed surprised by her interest in him.  Caught completely off-guard.

"That was not what distresses me.  But thank you for the clarification,” he said.  

Gwen chuckled.

“What does ‘distress’ you, then?”

He sighed, rubbing his temples.

“That I called you at all.  I would never have done so consciously," he explained, making Gwen’s heart fall a little.  "I would never willingly put you in harm’s way."

She smiled up at him, feeling like it was her turn to be caught off-guard.

“I know you wouldn’t,” she reassured him.  “And Hieronymous?”

He raised his brow.

“I am glad you’re alright,” she said with a bright smile.

She saw the curious expression of surprise he always wore when she voiced affection for him, and something else beneath it.  A secretive look which worried her.


	3. Chapter 3

Gwen awoke to the sunny, upbeat tune of birds singing outside her dorm room window.

"Ugh," she grumbled.

 _Nothing_ , she thought to herself, _should be so cheerful at this ungodly hour_.

She considered opening the window and greeting the jolly songbirds back with a burst of flames to make them go away.  

Groggily, she looked around her small dorm room.  Her roommates' beds were made and unused, both of them home for summer vacation.

 _Empty,_ she thought, feeling dismally alone.  It didn’t feel the same without Ellen and Virginia around.

Hugging her blanket close, Gwen let out a weary sigh.

She had been somewhat unceremoniously shuffled out of Hieronymous’ quarters the night before, once Petunia Potsdam had arrived and finished healing her.  The headmistress had teleported Gwen down to her dorm room and then left to see to Hieronymous' injuries.

With a worried frown, she wondered how he was feeling.  The last time she had seen him he had looked gaunt and pale, even for him.

A knock at the door caused Gwen to jump in surprise.

"Good morning, my little hummingbird!” Professor Potsdam called brightly in a sing-song voice.  “May I come in?"

"It's open," Gwen called back.

Pushing her blanket away, she rolled her legs out of bed.  Wriggling her toes, she felt the cool hardwood floor under her bare feet.

Professor Petunia Potsdam entered with a flourish of pink robes and long, diaphanous cuffs.  Her multicolored wooden bracelets click-clacked in rhythm with her white, heeled boots as she walked in.

Gwen guessed she was somewhere in her late 40s or early 50s, but it was hard to tell with her skillfully applied makeup.  The Headmistress, and part-time Professor, had a unique hair color of orange-red, with purple tips.  She looked more like a fashionable aunt to Gwen than the headmistress of a magic academy, with purple ribbons and an adorable purple flower on her witch’s hat.  Not to mention a generous amount of cleavage on display with a pendant designed to attract the eye in that direction.  Gwen imagined she had been gorgeous in her youth.

Besides being the headmistress, she was also a master of green magic, making her a talented healer.  She taught green, black, and white magic courses at school in addition to performing her duties as the headmistress.

Petunia smiled primly, looking her over with deep, emerald eyes.

"How are you feeling, poppet? Any problems with your leg?" she asked, resting a hand on Gwen’s cheek.

She also didn’t think much of boundaries, Gwen mused to herself.  Physical or otherwise.  Hieronymous often accused her of meddling.

Gwen put some weight on her left leg, cautiously testing for pain.

"No, it feels fine now."

"Excellent," Professor Potsdam twittered. "All in all, just a fractured femur after a teleportation that far is extraordinary!  Especially for a first year student."

Gwen felt slightly sick, as she asked, "Um, how many bones could someone break that way...?"

"All of them," Professor Potsdam replied, wearing the same cheerful smile.

"Ah, I see," Gwen stammered.

The Professor's casual attitude toward danger was always unnerving.  Hieronymous preached safety at all costs, while Professor Potsdam believed experience was the best teacher.  They often got along like a house on fire, from what Gwen had seen.  With the headmistress trying to loosen Hieronymous up, and him having none of it.

Her professor sighed wistfully at her, causing Gwen to furrow her brow in confusion.

"Such a romantic, daring rescue. Have the seeds of love finally begun to blossom between the two of you?"

Gwen stuttered for a moment before gathering her wits.  Professor Potsdam could also be, for lack of better terms, a bit of a hippie and a love freak.

"Professor, aren't you supposed to discourage this kind of thing between professors and students...?" Gwen asked, voicing something she had wondered for sometimes.

The headmistress had never wasted an opportunity to encourage her and Hieronymous into a romantic relationship.  Hieronymous had privately voiced suspicions to Gwen that his father might be bribing her into playing matchmaker.  But Gwen assumed the headmistress was really just a romantic at heart.

"Tsk, there are no rules against love of any kind on this campus.  I would put a stop to it if my professors were chasing students as a rule.  But Hieronymous is hardly the type.  Quite the contrary!" Professor Potsdam said, as though this made everything alright.

Gwen shook her head.

"How are my parents?" she asked, changing the subject though she dreaded the answer.

Professor Potsdam sighed, sitting down beside her on the bed.

"Well, I made them think you needed to return to school abruptly for academic reasons.  If I try to get too specific with their minds, it all tends to fall apart.  If their minds reject it too much, there is the possibility they may begin to forget about you,” she said with a helpless sigh.  “I'm sorry dear, but it’s best if you remain here while we sort this all out.  I can’t send you home in good conscience, if that manus might try to attack you.  It would also put your parents in grave danger.  I promise we’ll try to sort this all out quickly, and get you back home for summer vacation."

Gwen placed her forehead in her hand.  Things had been improving at home, but this would be a huge set-back.  White magic was more of an art than a science.  It could cause parents to forget that their son or daughter was at a magic academy.  However, it sometimes resulted in parents forgetting about their children entirely or assuming the wrong things about their absence.

For many Wildseeds- those witches and wizards born to non-magical parents- it came down to a choice: keep their powers and stay in the world of magic, or surrender their power and return to a normal life with their family… losing all of their memories from their time spent as a witch or wizard.

"How is Professor Grabiner?" Gwen asked, changing the subject.

"He's a bit weak yet, but he'll make a full recovery.  And please, you don't have to call him 'professor' in front of me," she chirped.

"Uh, I'd rather not push my luck," Gwen said quickly, imagining the glare she might get from Hieronymous if she used his first name casually with, what she assumed qualified as, his boss.  Getting to use his first name had been a hard fought journey, and not one she wanted to undo.

"Well, suit yourself, crumpet. Come along, let's get some breakfast," she said, pausing thoughtfully to look Gwen up and down.  "Oh dear, you can't come to breakfast in your pajamas. All of your clothes are at home, too, hmm..."

She circled Gwen for a moment.

Gwen, feeling self conscious, shivered a little, but did her best to hold still.  After a moment she felt a wave of black magic and her pajamas transformed into a sun dress of the same cream colored material and blue flower pattern.

"There we are," the professor beamed.

Gwen smiled, feeling refreshed.  The dress fit like a glove.

"Aren't you supposed to say bibbity-bobbity-boo for that spell?" she joked.

"That only applies to fairy godmothers," Professor Potsdam said with a wink.

Gwen laughed, then wondered if she was serious.  She did go to school with a fairy after all.

After some digging under her bed, she found a pair of sandals she'd left behind due to a lack of room in her suitcase.

They joined Hieronymous in the banquet hall, where he was just finishing a piece of toast as they sat down.  His chalky pallor was gone, replaced by his usual complexion, she noticed with relief.

Gwen helped herself to some buttered toast and strawberries as they exchanged pleasantries.

The three of them sat in uncomfortable silence, interspersed with the sound of cutlery.

After taking a few bites of her breakfast, Gwen looked across the table, trying to guess Hieronymous' thoughts.

"I've been listening to the Four Seasons at home.  It's beautiful," she said, breaking the silence.

Hieronymous steepled his fingers together and rested his chin on his knuckles.

"What makes it beautiful?" he asked.

Gwen was surprised by the question.  She had been aiming for casual chit-chat, but it seemed she was being quizzed.  Classical music was near and dear to his heart- that was one of the few things she knew about him.  His love of it had rubbed off on her, too, and she wanted him to know it.

After sitting for a long moment in concentration, she finally answered passionately.

"The music steals you, transposing all thought to a state of euphoria.  And then it tricks you," she said, wistfully.  "Evoking absolute sorrow.  Finally, transforming you to absolute catharsis."

A dead silence fell at the table.

Gwen's cheeks burned and she wondered if her impromptu monologue had sounded poetic or sappy.  She squared her shoulders and returned his stare with a smile; she'd given an honest answer and it was too late to take it back now.

Gwen saw a look she had never seen from Hieronymous before.  He appeared stunned.

"Uh... I, uh..." he said, momentarily at a loss for words.

Professor Potsdam smiled wickedly, "Come now Hieronymous, is that all you have to say? Surely you can muster more than that."

Hieronymous shot her a dirty look, then attempted to regain his composure.

"Well, um, yes," he sputtered a bit.  Gathering himself, he continued, "I've never heard it described quite like that before."

"I've never heard _anyone,"_ Professor Potsdam interjected, "talk that way about anything!" she said trying to illicit more from him.

Hieronymous shot Professor Potsdam another venomous look and cleared his throat. "Forgive me for being out of touch, how do you listen to the music?  Do you use a phonograph, or one of those new record players?"

Gwen gaped a little.  She knew the magic world was out of touch with technology, but she hadn't realized to what extent.

"Um, actually technology has progressed a little further than that.  I have a portable device I use at home.  It stores lots of music digitally and fits in your pocket.  I can’t bring it to school, because it takes photographs.  Oh, it can also makes phone calls.  And give driving directions.  And-"

"Makes it sound like magic, doesn't it?" Professor Potsdam interrupted with a grin. "Well," she interjected, giving Gwen a wink, "I'll leave you two to discuss the finer points of classical music. Please excuse me."

Professor Potsdam left the table and the banquet hall.

Hieronymous shook his head, tossing his thick curls of hair and muttering, "Meddlesome woman..."

Gwen smirked at him.

She wished she had her phone with to show him some of its features, and her stomach sank as her thoughts turned to home and of her parents.

Would they be disappointed in her for unexplained reasons?  Would they look at her in confusion, as if they couldn't quite remember who she was and why she was there?

She shivered, imagining a cold, dead-eyed stare from her own parents.

"Are you not feeling well?" he asked, giving her an inquisitive glance.

"I guess I'm not entirely eager to get home," she said, idly moving the jam around on her toast with a butter knife.

"Still having troubles at home?" he asked with a frown.

Gwen had confided her troubles with him during school, about being forgotten.

"Things were getting a little better, I think.  But..." she trailed off, looking down at her food.

"Disappearing to come to my aid, may have changed things for the worse," he finished, wearing his usual scowl.

"Professor Potsdam thinks it might be alright,” Gwen said, trying to lighten the mood. “Maybe I can tell them I had to come back to school because I just really, _really_ missed my..." she thought for a moment.  "Lucky umbrella."

Hieronymous snorted, but she suspected he was stifling a chuckle.

She smiled at him for a moment, until a shiver ran up her spine.

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she felt the familiar tingle of blue magic.

Someone was scrying her.

She looked to Hieronymous, her face full of discomfort.

From the fires of rage lit in Hieronymous' eyes, she knew she didn’t need to explain what was transpiring.

He quickly made several gestures and recited an incantation she didn’t recognize.  His eyes glimmered red and white and a wave of heat emanated from him.  

The spine tingling sensation of scrying ended abruptly.  Despite this, Hieronymous’ scowl deepened, as his spell extinguished and the air around them cooled back to room temperature.

"What was that spell?" Gwen asked in awe.

"A counter-spell. It attacks the mind with red magic," he said absently, deep in thought.

"So, you just attacked someone's mind with _fire_?" she asked, impressed.

"No, regrettably, I only tried,” he said, sounding disappointed.  “They broke the connection."

Gwen shuddered.

"This happened to me yesterday, too. I should have mentioned it before, but I forgot with everything else going on."

Hieronymous glared at her in irritation, as if to say this would have been valuable information to know last night.

"You..." he began angrily, about to launch into a lecture, then stopped. "...had a lot on your mind."

Gwen blinked.

 _Hieronymous being nice_ , she thought.   _Huh…_

"Whomever it was will think twice before trying it again," he said with a sinister smile.

Gwen relaxed a little.

The peeping tom was probably scared out of his or her wits.

Her feeling of safety was cut short as she reflected that a peeping tom might be exactly what had an eye on her.

"Isn't Iris Academy supposed to have wards?  Tough ones, I thought?"

"Indeed. Whoever that was, just brushed them aside."

A small squeak escaped her throat.

"People can do that?" she asked him incredulously.

"Not many. They have to be masterfully good at blue magic," he replied.

"How many people are that good?"

He scoffed at her question.

"It isn't something one advertises.  Presumably there are few of us in number."

"'Us'?" she echoed.

"Were you under the impression I was hired to teach blue magic for my charming personality?" he asked, the hint of a playful smile in his dark eyes.

Gwen couldn't help but chuckle.

"I must take my leave and discuss this development with Petunia," he said.

He nodded his head at her and departed the hall.

Gwen watched him leave.  Finding herself alone in the oppressively large banquet hall, she finished off her breakfast quickly and left.  

After wandering the halls for awhile, she settled on passing the afternoon in the library.

Grabbing a stack of books from the blue magic section, she set out to improve her understanding of teleportation magic.  Focusing heavily on safety.


	4. Chapter 4

Morning had turned swiftly into afternoon, and afternoon into evening, before Gwen finally looked up from her stack of books.  She had learned a decent amount.  Most impressively, that teleportation spells could be combined with black magic to enchant items.  Allowing anyone to cast a simple teleport spell using the enchanted object, instead of through their own efforts.  The concept opened up a wealth of possibilities she had never thought of before, as she wondered at what other sorts of magic objects could be imbued with.

The bookshelves began to cast long shadows across the floors as the sun started to set. Gwen took it as a cue.  Setting down her book, _Down the Rabbit Hole; A Cautionary Tale of Teleportation,_ she leaned back in her chair.

A frown formed on her lips, as she had the distinct feeling something was amiss.  She hoped it was only paranoia, but she could swear someone was watching her.  Again.  Although, not with magic this time.  

This time she had the distressing feeling someone was standing behind her.

Glancing nervously over her shoulder, her gaze fell on a nearby bookcase and her heart skipped a beat.

A figure was casually leaning there, staring at her from within a dark shadow, with their arms folded.

Gwen jumped out of her seat, heart hammering within her chest.

"H-hello?" she asked, quickly scrambling backwards.

The masculine figure shifted away from the bookcase and walked toward her.

Gwen forgot to breathe as she saw him step out into the light.

He was a creature with no substance; made entirely of shadow.

Light did not illuminate his face or figure; it only distorted it.  Flickering like a candle in the wind.

He stalked across the floor with a disconcertingly solemn gait, as though every step had a purpose.  

Circling around to put the table between them, Gwen eyed the exit, weighing how quickly she could escape.

The shadow creature placed both of his wispy hands on the table and leaned forward, looking at her.

"You are... a Grabiner," he said with satisfaction.  

The sound if his voice was deep and guttural, and made goosebumps break out over her skin.  He sounded oddly distorted, like his voice came from far away.

Gwen didn't wait to see what he had in mind to say or do next.

Running at top speed, she dashed out of the library.

Rounding the corner, she collided into someone, causing her to fall backwards with a scream of surprise.

Before she could hit the ground, a pair of arms caught her firmly by the shoulders.  Shrieking in panic, she struggled to escape their grip, raising a fire spell to blast their face.  

Recognizing Hieronymous, Gwen stopped her spell with wide eyes, while at the same time he easily caught her wrist and gently but firmly pointed her hand away from him.

Steadying her on her feet, Hieronymous turned without a word and strode into the library.

After listening to a minute of his mumbled chanting, she heard him say, "I sense nothing here.”  Adding,  “Please do _not_ tell me you only saw a spider."

Gwen peered cautiously into the room, her heart still pounding like jack hammer inside her chest.

The strange, shadowy apparition was gone.

"There was a man, wrapped in shadows,” she said in a rush, pointing at the end of the table where she had been reading.  “He was right there!”

Gwen shivered at the doorway.

Hieronymous made several arcane gestures, and found nothing if she was reading his his stone faced expression correctly.

"Are you absolutely sure the school has wards?  And we're not part of some control group that gets a placebo?" she asked with bitter sarcasm.

"Petunia’s white magic is some of the best in the country.  The school's wards are strong and functioning perfectly,” Hieronymous said, dismissing the idea.  “I checked them today myself."

"So far all of my experiences have been to the contrary!" Gwen snapped miserably.  

Nearly losing Hieronymous to the Otherworld, a stranger scrying on her, and now a shadow creature in the library.  All on the school campus.  She was definitely considering a transfer.

Hugging herself tight, she tried to calm down, but couldn't help shaking from head to toe.

"He said ‘you are a Grabiner’.  Like he _knew_.  Just by looking at me.  He's probably the one that's been scrying on me, and now he's stalking me in the shadows."

To her surprise she felt a warm arm around her shoulders.

Hieronymous lead her away from the library and down the hall.

With surprising gentleness, he smoothed her hair and stroked her back.

"Nothing will harm you," he said reassuringly, encompassing her in a warm embrace.

Gwen inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, beginning to relax.

She felt instantly safe, tucked against his chest.

There wasn’t a doubt in her mind Hieronymous would fight to his dying breath to protect her.  He might chide her for acting heroic, but they were really the same.  He would never let anyone who didn’t deserve it come to harm if he could do something to stop it.

Her encounter in the library was already fading into a distant memory.  All she could think of was Hieronymous' proximity.  They’d never been close like this before.  

Feeling bold, Gwen wrapped her arms around him.

She felt a fingertip under her chin, urging her to look up.  Her heart soared as she remembered him doing the same when they had shared their first kiss.

To her disappointment he only met her gaze.

"Come with me," he said.

Taking her hand in his, he lead her through the corridor.

Curious, she followed, enjoying the warm grip of his hand.

She would have been content to walk with him anywhere like this, she thought, silently laughing at herself.  When it came to Hieronymous and she couldn’t seem to help being head over heels for him.  She adored him in a way she had never felt about anyone else.

He lead her to the large double doors of the school's auditorium.

She had been there twice in the past; once to see a play and another time to see a choir performance.

She was a bit saddened when he released her hand to open the doors and summon an orb of light to his hand.

Burning with curiosity, Gwen followed him into the dark, empty auditorium.

The rows of chairs began to come into view as her vision adjusted to the dark.  Though it was summer, the auditorium was extremely cool, and she rubbed her arms as they walked, her sun dress feeling like the wrong attire.  

Hieronymous stopped abruptly at the center of the middle aisle.  Eyes settling on the center of the row, he walked to the center and sat down.

Gwen followed suit, taking a seat beside him.

With a flick of his wrist, the orb of light floated up to levitate above them. The magic light bobbed and flickered, casting a milky white glow.

Hieronymous leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, he let out a contented sigh.

"Auditoriums have always been a source of tranquility to me," he said.

Gwen could relate to his sentiment, drinking in the peaceful atmosphere.  It was a welcome relief from life’s most recent events, though she wasn’t entirely sure what had possessed him to bring her there out of the blue.

He raised an eyebrow as she shivered from the cold.

Red and black magic glowed around him for a moment.  Unclasping the cloak from his neck, he took it off and draped it over her shoulders.

She felt its enchanted warmth wash over her with a happy sigh.

“Thank you,” Gwen said, drawing it around herself with a large smile.  The fabric smelled like him and she loved it.  His scent was all warmth, books, fire, and musk.  “It’s nice here.  I didn’t know it could be so peaceful with no one else around.”

Her voice reverberated slightly in the empty space.

"When I was younger,” Hieronymous admitted in a conspiratorial voice.  “I would occasionally sneak into auditoriums after hours."

Gwen looked at him in surprise.

"Breaking and entering? _You_?"

He chuckled in a low voice.

"I teleported inside, so it was more entering than breaking, but yes, basically,” he said.  “I was probably your age at the time.  I would lie on the stage and listen to the silence.  I found it to be deeply calming.  As if one can sense all of the energy that has ever coursed through the hall.  It was a welcome escape," he said with a nostalgic look.  "I enjoyed finding creative ways of getting into trouble back then.  Making a game of it.  I was never caught or expelled unless I wanted to be.”

“Why would you want that?” Gwen asked.

“I was trying to anger my father."

Gwen remembered the first time she had handed him a letter from his father.  

And how he had casually incinerated it.

"The two of you don't get on well, I've noticed."

"You could say that," his tone suggesting that this was a grand understatement.  "I had top marks at school.  I worked very hard at it.  My prime motivation being to make him even more angry when I dropped out of school."

"You hated him so much you were going to drop out?" she asked, impressed.

"Yes.  I still do, mind you,” he said.  “Fortunately I met someone who changed my mind about leaving school.  They inspired me to stay.  Around that time I stopped caring about spiting my father and tried to forget him entirely."

Gwen mulled over his words.

 _Someone who inspired him…_ she wondered if he was talking about his late girlfriend, Violet.

"So, it's karma that you have to host detention then?" she asked playfully.

"Not at all.  I was never caught.  Thus I was never in detention," he said with satisfaction.

She smiled at how proud he was of his misconduct.

"Well, your secret is safe with me. I won't tell the other students."

"I doubt anyone would believe you, even if you tried,” he said with a roguish grin.  “But I’m glad I can count on your discretion.”

A question popped into her mind and left her lips before she could think better of it.

"Why do you hate your father so much?" she wondered aloud.

He folded his arms and set his jaw.

"I'm sorry,” Gwen said, wincing.  “That was too forward.  You don't have to answer that."

Hieronymous gave a her a thoughtful look.

"My father is a politician,” he said.  “A perfectionist, and as prideful as... well, as prideful as myself.  With that sort of combination, it's not a wonder things turned out the way that they did."

Gwen nodded, listening raptly.  She was shocked he would choose to share anything about his personal life.  It had taken months to pry the fact that he ‘enjoyed wine’ out of him.

"My father obsesses over his political career.  His position on the council is the only thing he has ever truly cared about.  He was rarely around.  I spent a lot of time with my mother.  She was a loving woman, filled with life.  I can still remember little things from that time.  

“The smell of her perfume.

“When she taught me to read sheet music.  

“How she would sit at the window, playing her flute.”

He smiled fondly at the memories.

“They divorced when I was a child.  My father drove my mother away, with his obsession for politics.

“He hired retainers to raise me in her place, freeing him to focus entirely on his career.  Grooming me to replace him someday with a never-ending parade of tutors.  

“He didn’t tell me until later that my mother had come to ask him for custody during the divorce.  And that he refused.

“I never saw her again.

“I think I reminded her too much of him.  Without her and her music, the house became cold and quiet."

Hieronymous frowned at Gwen.

"You can put away the doe-eyed look of sympathy,” he said, and Gwen quickly rearranged her face to look neutrally interested.  “I got used to living alone.  I preferred no company or that of my retainers, to having my father around."

Gwen imagined what a lonely existence his childhood must have been.  Growing up in an empty house, with no one to love him.

"Violet tried to bridge the gap between us," he said wistfully.

At the mention of Violet, Gwen stared down at her hands.  She couldn't keep her face neutral.

All at once she felt profoundly sad for his loss.  But in her heart she also felt jealous as she imagined a younger, happy Hieronymous, before he became bitter from losing her.  Violet had seen that man that she might never know.  And she hated herself for being jealous of a woman who was tragically killed.

"We tolerated each other then.  But, after her death... many words came between us.  He was outraged with my decision to become a professor.  We came to blows.  I severed all ties with him, and I haven’t spoken to him since.  I went on to finish my studies, then devoted my life to educating and terrifying students.  Abruptly, I got married, and here we are."

Gwen looked up at him and smiled.

"Yeah, getting married really wasn't part of your plan, huh?  I'm sorry you got forced into this against your will."

"I can imagine worse fates," he said with a small smile, “than being married to you.”

Gwen was overwhelmed.

"What's going on?" she asked suspiciously.

"Hm?" he replied.

"The way you're acting... It's just, you've been so _nice_ today.  And, well, open with me.  Are you dying?" she asked, brows knitting together.

He chuckled.

"No, I am not dying.  Is it so beyond belief that I can be pleasant for a day?"

She coughed politely and scratched the back of her head, trying to think how to answer that question.

This time Hieronymous laughed wholeheartedly. It was a wonderful sound that made his chest shake and eyes crinkle.

"Never mind, don’t answer that,” he said.  “The reason I brought you here was to properly thank you for helping me last night.  However ill-advised your actions were," he added firmly in a way that said just because he was showing gratitude didn’t mean he approved in the slightest.

Waving his hand, Hieronymous extinguished the light overhead, and summoned a shimmering surface before them.  Images slowly took form within it, and Gwen likened the sight to the magical equivalent of a television.  Or, more accurately, looking through a window, as the clarity on the other side was too real.

"Scrying on other people for the purposes of spying or peeping, as someone has been doing to you, is considered beyond crass in magic society.  However, there are socially acceptable uses," Hieronymous explained.

Within the window she saw a beautiful auditorium come into view.  There was a brightly lit stage upon which sat empty chairs arranged in a half circle.  Surrounding the stage was a well-dressed audience, many holding programs in their hands, quietly chatting with one another.  The detail was so vivid, it felt as though she could reach through and touch the lovely ivory walls adorned with beautiful golden scroll work.

"Where is that?" she asked quietly, despite being relatively sure no one on the other could hear her.

"Carnegie Hall in Manhattan.  The New York Philharmonic is playing tonight."

"This is amazing," Gwen whispered, sitting up on the edge of her seat in excitement.

"Not really," he said casually.

She gave him a skeptical frown, wondering if she had just been insulted.

"This is rudimentary magic,” he explained.  “You will learn it during your fourth year.  I merely wanted to give you a broader knowledge, given your recent experiences."  

With a wave of his hand the scrying window disappeared, leaving them in darkness.

Gwen sat back feeling disappointed, until she heard a quiet whisper beside her.  She made out some arcane words, and realized Hieronymous reciting the lengthiest and most complicated spell she had ever heard.

The hall flared to life in a dazzling display of fiery brilliance, sounds, and smells.  The auditorium of Iris Academy was gone.  Above them shone the lights of Carnegie Hall, illuminating patrons talking eagerly all around them.  Gwen stared at the woman sitting beside her wearing a black evening dress.  Everything about her looked real.  From her white teeth and red lipstick, to her laughter- she could even tell what kind of fabric her black evening dress was made from.  Their seats were close enough to the stage that she could hear the footsteps of the performers behind the closed doors.  When she ran her hands across the arms of her chair, instead of cheap wood, it was worn fabric.  Tapping her feet on the floor, she could feel a creek in the boards and a spring in the carpet.

Reaching out her hand slowly, she watched with fascination as it passed through the woman beside her.

Jaw dropped, she turned and looked at Hieronymous.

"This is an illusion?" she asked in an awed whisper.

"For a skilled blue magician, reality is fluid," he said with a satisfied look, repeating what he had said on the first day of blue magic class.  “All things can be changed.”

She had to take a minute to to find her voice.

"I guess they really didn't hire you for your charming personality," she said with a laugh, staring around the room in astonishment.  She would have sworn they were really in Carnegie Hall.

The house lights dimmed, signaling the audience to take their seats.  

The symphony members began filing out from backstage and taking their seats.  

Some of the musicians played passages from what she assumed would be the performance, while others played scales, or tuned their instruments.  Gwen enjoyed the beautiful din it created.  If it weren't for the other audience members gazing through them, she would have had no indication they were sitting within an illusory projection.

Hieronymous sat back, comfortably crossing one leg.  She wondered how often he liked to do this, or if it was a rarity for him.  Moreover, she wondered how many wizards were capable of casting magic of this scale.  Though her experience was limited, his talents seemed exceptional from everything she had heard of.

The conductor emerged onstage, bowing to thunderous applause.  Taking his place at the podium, he gracefully raised his baton in the air.  

Gwen felt like there was a different kind of magic in that moment, sensing the energy in the room as the audience waited for the first notes to fall.

With a deft motion the conductor flicked his wrists, filling the auditorium with beautiful music as he lead the philharmonic at a lively pace.

Hours passed, with Gwen entranced by the music.

Regularly, she glanced over at Hieronymous.  If it took any effort at all for him to keep the scrying going, he wasn't showing it.  He looked equally enthralled by the performance.  

There was a brief intermission, where most of the audience stood up and walked through them.  

During the break Gwen expressed her excitement at seeing her first, live concert and Hieronymous politely asked how it compared to a digital recording.

She grinned unabashedly at him as they talked, and was pleasantly surprised when he actually smiled back.  His smile was beautiful.

In all the time she had known him, she had never seen him look so content and at ease.

Without a doubt, it had become one of the happiest nights of her life and, feeling bold, she told him as such.  Hieronymous said nothing, but gave her another one of his smiles, which said more than words.

The final pieces were deeply moving.  Some moments were filled with despair, but in the end, the powerful melody returned, transforming the sad song into one of rich harmony.  The music ended and the crowd stood, roaring and applauding passionately.  Gwen couldn't help but get swept up in their enthusiasm, joining in, grinning from ear to ear and practically bouncing with excitement.  After the conductor had taken his bows several times, the musicians left the stage.

The illusion slowly disappeared, the crowd around them fading to nothing.

Hieronymous recast a light spell, illuminating the empty school auditorium.

Gwen was startled by the stark difference of reality to the illusion.

She beamed up at Hieronymous standing beside her.

His expression was difficult to read, as he stared into her eyes, letting out a sigh.

It sounded sad to her.

Gwen tilted her head to the side, perplexed, as he stood still for longer than seemed normal.  Or even possible.

A movement to her right made her jump in fright.  The shadow from before was standing beside her, one row forward.  Hieronymous remained unmoving, and she noticed the bobbing and flickering light overhead had also gone unnaturally still, not wavering in the slightest.

Frozen.

Time, she thought, seemed to have stopped.

Gwen gazed upon the figure, swallowing down her fear.  His body was still made of insubstantial black mist, just as in the library, but up close she could see some vague details of clothing.  She wondered if he was some sort of very old ghost, as his clothing looked quite old.  There was the shape of armor on his forearms and hands, and there appeared to be an ethereal hood over his head.

A low, distorted voice, came from beneath the hood.

"Don’t make any foolish promises."

And with that, he vanished.

Time resumed once more, the entire exchange over in moments.

Hieronymous was still staring at her as though nothing had transpired.

"Promise you won't put yourself in danger," he told her.

"I-" Gwen stammered, looking where the shadow had just been.  “I just-”

"This is serious, Gwen," Hieronymous replied, face set in determination.

The creature's strange warning echoed in her mind, and for the time being, she decided not to tell him what she had just seen.

"...that's not a promise anyone can make, Hieronymous," she said instead.

His face looked strained.

"Swear never to come after me again, as you did last night," he said.  Softly adding, “Please.”

Out of everything happening, Gwen felt certain hearing the word ‘please’ come from Hieronymous, was the most alarming.

"What's going on?” she demanded, shaking her head.  “You've been acting strange all day."

"Just promise me," Hieronymous insisted.  “Gwen, if something happened to you, because you were trying to help me… I could not live with myself.”

The rawness of his voice made her heart ache.  Time froze again, and she stared into his agonized expression, wishing she could make it disappear.

"You can save him," she heard the shadow whisper behind her.

Time was resuming before she could even look at the intruder, and she stared up into Hieronymous' dark eyes with resolve.

"I'm sorry,” she said.  “I just can't promi-"

The rest of her words were a murmur of surprise as Hieronymous interrupted her, covering her mouth in a kiss.

He wound one hand around her waist, and entwined the other in her red hair, pressing her closer.  

Gwen blinked in.

It was nothing like the kiss he had given her at the end of school, which had been more like a greeting.  This was deep and passionate, and made her feel light as air.

Closing her eyes, she wrapped her arms around him, letting everything else melt away.

When it ended, she was glad he was still holding onto her, because she didn’t trust her balance.

"Hieronymous,” she whispered breathlessly.  “What's all of this for…?" she trailed off apprehensively.

He gave her a gentle look she had never seen from him before.  Taking her hand in his, he gently pressed it to his lips.

"If it was your last night on Earth, how would you spend it?" he replied softly, then winced as a terrible strain appeared on his face.

Gwen’s eyes widened in horror as his body began to fade.

"No!" she screamed, feeling his hand around hers losing substance.  

Focusing her magic, she tried to pull him back like she had the night before, but the effort felt utterly futile.

For the third time the world stood still.  Hieronymous was barely visible now, his bittersweet expression clouded with pain and frozen in time.

She whirled around to face the shadow she knew would be there.

Anger made her unafraid of the strange shadow creature.

" _Are you doing this?!_ " she demanded.

The shadow observed her for a moment.

“This is not my doing,” he said, his voice calm and refined.  “This is the work of the manus he summoned last night.”

It was the first time he had ever replied to her, instead of making cryptic statements.  And, to her irritation, he was dodging the question of his identity.

“How do you know it’s the manus?” she asked, silently wondering how he even knew Hieronymous had summoned the manus last night.

The shadow looked thoughtfully at Hieronymous.

“He knew there was no escape.  That it was a matter of time.  Last night, the manus tethered itself to his soul,” the shadow explained in its strange and distorted voice, dodging her question again, giving her a different answer she needed.  “He spared your feelings, and spent the day putting his affairs in order.”

Gwen felt her eyes pricking with tears.

“How do I stop this?” she asked, voice breaking.

“Stop it?” the shadow echoed.  “You can’t.  No wizard can.  Souls are quite fragile things.  He is going to be taken to Otherworld,” the shadow said with finality.  “However, you can save him.”

“Who are you?” Gwen asked suspiciously.

“A friend,” he said simply, inclining his head in a small bow.  “Do not tell a soul that you saw me, and I shall return to you later.”

Without warning he vanished and time resumed.

Gwen watched in agony as Hieronymous vanished and she was left standing alone in the dark.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Hieronymous’ light spell flickered and vanished, leaving the auditorium pitch black.  

Alone, Gwen sank to her knees.  Hands trembling, she squeezed them into tight fists.  With a shriek, she blindly swung in the dark, repeatedly striking the chairs and punching the concrete floor beneath her.  

Finally, she sank to the ground, sobbing through stuttered breaths.

With a throbbing hand, she gently touched the too large, warm cloak hanging around her shoulders.  His scent was still there.  All warmth, books, fire, and musk.

Somewhere out there, he was in danger.  And there was nothing she could do to fix it.

She wanted to stop sobbing, she thought with frustration, but despite her best efforts, the miserable sound kept welling up from her throat.

Somewhere beneath her cries, she heard a deep voice coming from somewhere in the auditorium.  Realizing she wasn’t alone, Gwen fell silent and listened intently.

 _Illumination_ , she thought, recognizing the words to the spell.

Light spilled across the auditorium from the aisle, revealing the regal figure of a tall, slender man.  His light spell bobbed into the air over his head, giving a better view of him.  

He was a striking figure, dressed in elegant black robes embroidered with gold, the quality as fine as the most expensive of suits.  His bearing was as impeccable as his clothing.  Proud and confident, with a stubborn glint in his dark eyes.  Both his short, black hair and goatee were finely cropped, and held small traces of white.

Gwen sat perfectly still, watching him with a wary eye from between the seats on the floor, preparing a teleportation spell.

She watched him chant a Spirit Echoes spell, and followed his gaze.  Watching recent events unfold through his spell, his attention shifted to the entrance of the auditorium, leading his gaze to the center row where she and Hieronymous had sat together.  Where she was still kneeling on the floor.

The stranger's dark, intelligent eyes fell to hers, spying he watching him from between the seats.

“Hello there,” he said softly.

His gentle, inquiring tone, made her less suspicion of him, and she lowered her teleportation spell.

"Who are you?" she asked in a voice hoarse from crying, once she had cleared her throat several times.

Gracefully, he crossed the row of seats and crouched down on a knee beside her.

The first thing he did was produce a white handkerchief.

Gwen hesitated, still slightly uncertain toward him, but found something about his eyes which changed her mind.  Accepting the soft cloth from him, she wiped her tear-stained cheeks.

"I am sorry we’re meeting under such regrettable circumstances," he said in an all too familiar, refined British accent.  “I am Aloysius.  Hieronymous’ father,” he said politely, extending his hand.

Feeling dumbfounded, Gwen offered her hand in return, but he frowned and gingerly clasped it between both of his own.  Surprised by the intimate gesture, she looked down and noticed her hands were covered in cuts and a colorful assortment of bruises.

Warm magic enveloped her hand as he cast a healing spell, before taking her other hand carefully between his and giving it the same treatment.

"It's not safe to talk here," he said earnestly.  

Aloysius offered his arm to her with old world courtesy, and Gwen let him help her stand.

"With your permission,” he said.  “I'd like to escort you to someplace more secure."

Before Gwen could reply, Aloysius placed his hand on her shoulder and they vanished.

 

* * *

 

Hieronymous struggled to open his eyes.

Everything was out of focus and his efforts only served to reveal blurred, glaring light.

Feeling only half-way conscious, he pushed himself to take stock of his surroundings, trying to fully rouse himself.

Raw, magical energy hung in the air, tingling along the back of his neck, and incessantly pushing against his mind.  The press of it was nearly overwhelming.  The power so badly wanted to flow through him, to be funneled into a spell, it made his fingers twitch with the need to use it.

From that sensation he knew he wasn't in his dimension anymore.

 _Otherworld_ , he thought, anxiety gripping his heart.  

Not because of the peril he was almost certainly in.  But because in all the years since the accident, Hieronymous had never set foot in the realm.  He wanted nothing to do with it, or the horrific memories it brought.

He quickly focused beneath the sensation of magic to distract himself from where he was, paying attention to other things.

It smelled damp and musty.

There was a chill in the air.

And he could feel cold, worn stone beneath his cheek.

Not far away he could make out the sound of men and women chanting.  He picked up various clips and phrases of the spells being cast, recognizing scrying, teleportation, and Far Speak among them.

He tried to focus through the dense fog around his mind, finding clear thought as much of a struggle as clear vision.  On top of that, his body ached violently and whenever he lost focus, he felt his consciousness slipping away from him.

Squinting, he saw dancing blue runes come into view.  Their light bouncing off of a puddle in front of him.

As his vision finally drew into focus, he saw he was lying on the ground in an ancient looking subterranean chamber or crypt.

The blue light extinguished and he watched two manuses drift to float on either side of him.  Arms folded, they stood as foreboding sentries before shimmering and vanishing.

 _A summoning spell then_ , he thought, _cast by the manus_.  And certainly using the tether it had placed on him last night.  As far as he could tell his soul was still intact, though his mind and body were reeling from the experience of being dragged across dimensions.  Human beings, it seemed, were not meant to be summoned like demons- soul first, he thought, feeling wretchedly weak from the experience.

The sound of bare feet against rock attracted his attention.  Craning his head back he saw an archway leading to a hallway.  A pack of goblins stalked past the room, paying him no attention other than a casual glance in his direction.

His stomach turned at the sight of the vile creatures, pulse racing in his ears.  Dread filled his bones, as the memories he had tried to avoid sought him out.  Shaking, he felt his left eye begin to ache violently, and he could swear there were wicked claws rending his flesh.  His breathing came faster, unable to take a real breath as his broken ribs pressed painfully-

 _No_ , Hieronymous told himself, calming his breathing.   _That was then.  This is now.  Focus on something.  Think.  Think about anything else.  Find a distraction.  The goblins, they ignored you.  That means whatever creatures might be dwelling here, they are working with the manus.  Otherwise they'd have made a meal of you by now._

    Blearily, he noticed a hooded man and an older gentleman in expensive white robes.  He looked vaguely familiar to Hieronymous.  Recognition dawned and he scowled at the human wizard in white robes.

Weakly, he reached out to the magic pulsing around him.  Managing to tame a small amount of it, he began silently shaping it into a spell.

As he worked, he listened to the two men conversing.

"Something will have to be done about Aloysius.  He just isn't getting the message," the older gentleman sighed, annoyance clearly written on his face.

"Shall I take care of it?" asked the hooded figure.

Hieronymous thought he sounded like an overly-eager lackey, trying too hard to impress his master.

"Do whatever needs to be done," the older man said thoughtfully, adding, "But if he resists, have them rough-up the girl.  Eventually, he'll get the idea."

"Yes, Alcinous," said the zealous lackey.  With a deep bow, he disappeared.

As Alcinous turned to walk towards him, Hieronymous could clearly see his shoulder length white hair and light blue eyes.  His father’s political rival hadn’t changed despite the years.  Right down to his pale complexion, which still matched his sleek, white robes.

Hieronymous felt his spell faltering within his grasp as he tried to gather the last of his strength to finish it.  He hoped he had enough willpower left to send it across dimensions.

"Father... help me," he said.  Even as the words left his mouth, he could feel his consciousness slipping away.  His spell barely finished before the strain of casting it overwhelmed him.

Alcinous stood above the unconscious Hieronymous and gloated.

“Nicely done,” he sneered.  “I couldn’t have tempted Aloysius here myself.  But for you, he'll definitely make the trip.”

With an unpleasant smile, he turned away.

For a split second, Alcinus thought he saw a figure in the corner of his eye.  When he looked back he chuckled at himself.  It had been a mere trick of the light; the “figure” was his own shadow.

Walking away, he was unaware of the shadow stepping away from the wall, its intent gaze following him as he departed.

 

* * *

 

Gwen and Aloysius appeared in a gigantic entry room.

It took Gwen a moment to realize they were in a house.

From where they stood, she had a clear view of a massive great room.

Gwen stared in fascination, only having seen such extravagance in magazines and television.  Everything about it was breath-taking, from the marble floors, to the cathedral ceiling decorated with crystal chandeliers, and especially to the opulent furnishings.

"We'll sort this all out,” Aloysius said in a warm voice.  “Please, come in and make yourself at home.”

He lead the way inside, perfectly comfortable and, well, at home, she thought, realizing that was exactly where they must be.

She started to follow him, but Aloysius came to a sudden stop, causing her to bump into him.

“Sorry,” she apologized, but could instantly tell his mind was elsewhere.  

He wore a look of deep concentration, as though he were listening to something only he could hear.

"I must make some important calls,” he said abruptly, off-handedly adding, “If you have need of me, I will be there,” he said, pointing down the left hallway to a room at the end.  “I think you will be most comfortable here in the great room for now, but feel free to explore the house."

He set off down the hall in a hurry, leaving Gwen alone.

She shook her head.

Everything was happening too fast.  It felt like an eternity since she had laid down to sleep in her own bed.  Since she had felt like a carefree teenager enjoying her summer vacation.  

Now here she was, standing in a vast mansion owned by her father-in-law.

She sighed and sank down into a leather armchair, trying to listen-in on whatever calls Aloysius was making down the hall.

Her eyes roved over the old, classy looking antiques.  It made her feel out of place and under dressed, if she was being completely honest.  Everything about the house screamed expensive, from marble busts, to tapestries, to exotic rugs.  All of it _very_ old and more than a little intimidating- it was the sort of thing she imagined museum curators were paid to yell at children not to touch.  

The house was lit with a lovely magical flame, as she was accustomed to seeing at Iris Academy.  

Apparently wizards used it in their homes as well.  

Stress had surely numbed her, she realized, as she thought about the electric bill savings.  The mundane thought felt automated.  It went through her mind, and she was watched it pass, like someone else was thinking it.  As though she were still thinking and having thoughts, but wasn’t entirely involved in the process.

She tried to ground herself, by thinking about something besides talking shadows or Hieronymous’ safety, which were constantly hammering away in the back of her mind.  She needed something simple, to organize her thoughts.

The house pricked her curiosity, so she focused on that.

Gwen wasn't sure what she had expected her father-in-law's life to be like.  She had known Aloysius was in politics and came from a very old family.  While Hieronymous, on the other hand, seemed to live modestly.  Though it was fair to assume he could live somewhere other than Iris Academy in his spare time, his teacher’s quarters at least were sparse.  Filled only with books.

Aloysius’ dwelling was a stark contrast to that simple room.  Though without a doubt, she preferred Hieronymous’ quarters to this luxury.

The mansion was lovely to look at, but it reminded her more of a pretty painting than a home.  The sort of place you looked at, but didn’t touch.

Moreover, it wasn’t warm and it was too clean.  She guessed Aloysius didn’t bother heating it, because he was never home, and never had to opportunity to mess it up for the same reason.  There was no sign that the house was _lived_ in.  Someone was keeping up with the dusting, or doing so by magic, but that was all.  

Gwen shifted uncomfortably in her chair, feeling like she was sitting in the waiting room of a fancy legal office.  Or was in a museum after hours, she mused, looking at the fancy antiques.

The atmosphere was oppressive.

She couldn’t imagine being comfortable, living in such a solitary, lonesome place.

The idea that this was Hieronymous’ childhood home made her frown.  Cold and quiet, was how he had described it.  Looking around, it seemed an understatement.

A loud thud snapped her out of her reverie.

Aloysius had pounded his fist on his desk, she saw, peeking down the hall.  His face was flushed red and she could see where Hieronymous got his scathing look from.  Looking closer, she couldn't see a phone, and then slapped her forehead.  

 _Well of course he isn't on a phone,_ she thought.   _He’s talking to other wizards.  They can just speak telepathically._ Gwen sighed with disappointment. _So much for listening in on the conversation._

With nothing else to do, she wandered the house.

Under normal circumstances she would have enjoyed her exploration of the unsettlingly large place, but she couldn't relax.  She needed to find out more about what was going on before she went crazy.

Wandering aimlessly, she found herself in the kitchen.

Aside from the finery, there was one mundane looking thing; a glass jar with coins in it.

On closer examination, the words "ONE POUND" printed on the gold coins.

Blinking, Gwen absorbed this.

She remembered asking Hieronymous what it was like to live in England, to which he had unenthusiastically replied, "It rains frequently."

Sure enough, she looked out the window and noticed it was actually raining.  If she wasn’t sure of it before, she was absolutely certain she wasn’t in the United States anymore, where she spied the sun between the clouds.  It had been night time, when they left Iris Academy.

Poking around the kitchen cupboards she eventually found an assortment of tea bags. She had never used a wizard's kitchen before, but hoped the principles were generally the same. After some fiddling with the wood-burning stove, she held up a hand filled with magic to light a fire, but found the burner heating up instantly on its own accord with her magic.

She quirked her head at it, and thought back to her reading on the subject of enchanting.  Impressed by the enchanted stove, she set a kettle of water on it.

A little while later, she poked her head into Aloysius’ study, where he sat staring out the window intently, his index fingers pressed to his lips.

The sound of china on his desk roused him from his contemplation, as he seemed to notice her for the first time.

Gwen seated herself across from him.

"I thought you could use some tea," she offered.

Aloysius arched one of his slender, black eyebrows.

"You assume because I'm English, I can't survive without tea?"

Gwen blushed and looked down.  She had come to that exact assumption.

"You are completely correct of course. Two lumps please," he said, raising his teacup.

She smiled with relief and poured his cup, feeling more at ease with him for his teasing.

"How are you holding up?" she asked directly.

"Oh, fine,” he said as though they were discussing the weather.  “A lifetime in politics teaches one to keep putting one foot in front of the next."

As she poured the hot water in his cup, she couldn't decide if he was making a show of confidence for her benefit or not.  She couldn't imagine being "fine" in the face of her own son being abducted by a demon to a dangerous dimension.

"Can you please catch me up?" she asked, slightly pleading.

Steeping his tea, Aloysius sighed a little.

"Unfortunately, I don't know very much.  I only found out he was in danger at all, thanks to Petunia.  He bothered to leave her a note, at least.  Something went wrong in the summoning of our family’s manus.  I’m afraid it was no accident, however.  Our manus seems to have switched employers.  Hieronymous was abducted by my political rival, Alcinous Alden- not that I can prove it,” he added, with another scowl.  “I've contacted the best white mages on the council discretely.  They cannot locate my son.  Wherever he is, he's beyond magic.  I’m certain Alcinous intends to blackmail me to some end.  He hasn't stated what that is.  Yet."

"What can we do?" she asked, frowning.

The situation sounded remarkably hopeless to her from his description.

"For now, the best thing we can do is take our minds off of the situation until we have more information. Worrying will get us nowhere."

Gwen didn't like it, but it made a certain amount of sense.

"If you don't mind, I would like to take this opportunity to get to know the young woman who stole my son's heart," he said with a warm smile and a deeply impressed tone of voice.

Gwen nearly choked on her tea.

Setting her cup down, she fidgeted with her hands.

"I don't know how much you've heard, but it isn't quite like that."

"Oh?" he asked innocently.

Gwen didn't know Aloysius well enough to be sure, but she suspected he was feigning ignorance.  Probably curious to hear things in her own words.  Instead of from Professor Potsdam’s, she presumed.

"Our marriage wasn't a happy occasion,” she began, thinking back on it.  “In fact, I don't think I've seen anyone more cross in my life.  I assume you know the circumstances.  About the manus threatening to eat my soul?  And Hieronymous agreeing to the marriage to avoid that?"

Her father-in-law sipped his tea, wearing a small smile.

"You've got me,” Aloysius admitted.  “I do know some of the details."

Gwen stared resolutely away from his eyes, focusing on some unimportant detail of his clothing instead.

"So, you know we're not a real couple then."

She heard him chuckle, making her look up.

"I sincerely doubt that," Aloysius said. giving her a knowing smile.

"I don't mean to burst your bubble,” she said, feeling simultaneously annoyed by his knowing smile, and guilty about ruining the happy, optimistic look in his eyes.  “But, honestly, he's going to divorce me in January.  He's probably planned a celebration for it and everything," she added as a joke, but found she couldn’t deliver it quite right.

"Gwen..." Aloysius said in a diplomatic voice, taking a sip of his tea.  “I saw everything that happened tonight in the Spirit Echoes spell.”

Gwen wondered what he meant, replaying events.

Her eyes went wide as she recalled their kiss.  The first, and only, real kiss they had shared.

Groaning, she hid her face in both hands.

Her father-in-law had seen it.  That incredibly intimate moment.

She wished very hard she could turn invisible.

Between her fingers her fingers, she could see a playful smirk on Aloysius’ thin lips.

"Now, now,” he said with a small chuckle.  “We're all young once.  It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"You don’t understand!” she protested, feeling her eyes prickling.  “We're not doing that kind of thing all of the... It was one kiss- our _first_ kiss, and he said..." she trailed off, voice softening to a whisper.  "He said it was his last night on Earth.  Anyone would want to kiss someone, in that situation."

Gwen looked at the floor, feeling heavier for voicing her thoughts out loud.

"We have come back to the topic we were trying to avoid,” he said gently, giving her a sad smile.  “But if I may say one thing, a small piece of parental insight, for what it's worth.  After what happened to Violet," he paused, setting down his cup, as he looked directly at her, probably gauging her reaction to the mention of the name she thought.  "Seeing him open up to another young woman, is no small feat.  And, as much as he may deny it, I know my son. He wouldn't kiss just anyone."

Aloysius was putting on a strong show, she realized.

As he spoke of Hieronymous, despite his gentle smile, a single tear slid down his cheek.

Gwen rubbed her own eyes.

"You know,” she said, trying to change the subject.  “Someone's been scrying on me lately.  Maybe it was that Alcinous person you mentioned."

"No," Aloysius said, shaking his head and discretely dabbing his cheek.  "It wasn't Alcinous. It was me."

"You?" Gwen asked in disbelief.  "What for?"

Aloysius gave her a thoughtful look, drumming his fingers on his desk.  He had a guilty look about him, like she had caught him red-handed, and he was carefully choosing how to respond.  And rightly so, she thought, trying to get angry with him.  He had been spying on her, after all.

His dark eyes were clouded with deep thought.

“I like to think that I’ve lived a good life,” Aloysius began reluctantly.  Gwen listened intently, uncertain where the conversation was leading.  “However, there are… parts of my life that I am less than proud of.  Where Hieronymous is concerned, I am filled with regrets,” he said with a heavy sigh.  “Everything I have done… The times I failed him… I would do anything, for him, Gwen.  Anything.  Even if it meant him hating me all the more-”

Aloysius paused, staring out the window intently.

"I am afraid that I must stop myself there for now.  We have intruders."

At that moment Gwen heard heavy footsteps coming their way, confirming his words.

"How many are there _..._ ? _"_ she asked nervously.

"Not enough," Aloysius replied coolly.

A team of men dressed in black poured into the room, guns aimed at the both of them.

A hooded figure strode in, head held high.

"We have some matters of importance to discuss, Viscount Montague," he said in a haughty tone.

"Yes," Aloysius replied, fire burning in his eyes.  “We do.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

Gwen held her breath, looking at three different pistols pointed in her direction, and another four aimed at Aloysius.  The hooded figure stood in the doorway with his arms folded, looking pleased with himself in a sinister way that made Gwen nervous of the man.

Aloysius, on the other hand, sat back in his chair, looking perfectly at ease.  Crossing one of his legs, he smiled broadly at the stranger.

"Welcome to my home," he said congenially.  "May I offer you some tea?" he asked, sweeping his arm toward the kettle.

Tensely, Gwen watched a confused frown spread across the intruder’s face.  He had clearly been expecting a different reaction to his grand entrance.

"Do you think this is a joke?" he growled at Aloysius.

"Well," Aloysius chuckled in amusement.  "You have to admit, it is rather funny."

As he began breaking into a fit of laughter, Gwen and the intruder both gaped at him. She wondered if he had gone mental.

"You brought _guns_.  I mean really," he said, wiping away a small tear from laughter. "It's just precious," he finished, as if he were complementing a two-year-old's macaroni drawing.

Aloysius flicked his wrist and all seven guns fell to the floor with glowing red handles, their owners clutching their scorched hands.  One pistol discharged at Aloysius with a loud _BANG!_ The bullet ricocheted off of an invisible shield an inch from Aloysius' face, before lodging itself in the wall beside him.

Gwen stared at him in amazement, as he didn't so much as blink.

Glowering at the hired security team, his eyes aglow with white magic, Aloysius said one word.

"Leave."  His commanding voice contained mind influencing magic, Gwen surmised, from the way they fled from Aloysius' presence with haste.  Tripping over one another in terror, leaving behind their hooded leader.  Gwen heard them wrench open the front door and race out of the mansion.

Aloysius sank back in his chair, folding his hands and placing his index fingers back to his lips.

"Please, do continue," Aloysius said evenly.  "I believe you were about to threaten me," he added.

The hooded man balled his fists, jaw clenching and unclenching.

Aloysius reached his hand forward as though casting a spell, causing the other man to flinch, but Aloysius merely took his cup instead, sipping his tea.

"You wouldn't kill me," the man said, recovering himself and raising his head haughtily.  "You don't want anything to happen to your son," he sneered.

Aloysius made a chuckling sound.

"You have that backwards,” he explained, his friendly voice dropping an octave as his expression turned from pleasant to deadly serious.  “Abducting my son was a very poor life decision."

Shivering, Gwen marveled at how quickly Aloysius could switch between jovial and wholly frightening.

"Don't do anything foolish, Viscount," the man spat back.

"Hand over my son," Aloysius replied, his black eyes cold and terrifying, "and I won't."

Sensing he had lost the upper hand, the hooded man scowled and uttered a quick chant, before vanishing.

"Is it wise to antagonize them like that?” Gwen asked quickly.  “They might hurt Hieronymous."

"If I cooperate with them, my dear, they will certainly end my son.  The more they believe they need the leverage, the safer he is, I assure you."

Gwen reached down and scooped up a 9mm pistol, snapping the safety on with a practiced motion.

"I'll clean this up for you," she said, clicking on the safeties of each gun.

"Thank you.  Wizards find guns such base things," he said, stifling a yawn.  Hieronymous’ sudden abduction had probably resulted in him being woken up in the middle of the night, Gwen thought.

"So, what do we do now?" she asked, ready to mount a rescue.

"'We' aren't going to do anything.  Young witches have no business venturing into the Otherworld.  You should get some sleep,” he advised.  Though his tone was calm and practical, Gwen still felt frustrated.  Hieronymous was in danger, and she was being sent to bed.  She felt useless, which only served to make her angry.

“I am going to gather a group of witches and wizards from the council,” Aloysius went on, leading her upstairs.  He opened the door to a guest room and waited for her to step inside.

Gwen frowned at him, resisting the urge to vent her frustration on him.  None of it was his fault.  He was helping, and he was being the voice of reason.

"Don't worry,” he said reassuringly.  “We'll get him back."

"I hope so," Gwen finally said, reluctantly walking into the dark guest room and closing the door behind her.

Aloysius' footsteps echoed down the hall as he walked away.

For now, she chose to keep the existence of the shadow creature to herself.  She trusted Aloysius, where it came to Hieronymous.  His earnest words from before, that he would do anything for his son, sounded sincere.  However, Aloysius seemed to have his own secrets.  He had spied on her.  Had obviously been receiving messages from Potsdam, too.  And he had been about to say something to her before they were interrupted.  About doing something for Hieronymous, even if it made him hate his father more than he already did.

 _What could he have meant?_ she wondered.

As Gwen crawled into the neatly made bed, she couldn’t stop thinking about Hieronymous.  Where was he now?  How long would it take to find him?  Would she ever see him again?  Was he still alive?

She stared at the ceiling and sighed in exasperation, knowing that falling asleep was impossible.

 

* * *

 

Hieronymous looked around, seeing a bright mist in every direction.

Slowly, it began to subside, revealing a familiar cobblestone path.

He followed it, walking out of the gate to Iris Academy.

The mist was barely visible, the further he walked.  Overhead, he looked up at the clock tower, checking the time.  

Something told him he was on time.

The fountain beside him gurgled quietly, the only sound in the courtyard.

Flowers everywhere in the quad were in full bloom.

Absently, he adjusted his dark blue cape.  The falcon symbol on his belt buckle glinted in the sunlight that bathed the school grounds of Iris Academy.

"Where am I?" he wondered aloud, absent-mindedly.  He wasn’t supposed to be at the school.  The last thing he remembered was Otherworld.

Racing footsteps came from within the school gate.  A young woman darted out of the entrance, her purple cape of Butterfly Hall flapping behind her.  She sprinted up to him and then stooped over, catching her breathe.  Her straight, long, black hair fell around her as she leaned forward.

"Sorry…” she huffed, taking deep breaths.  “I'm... late."

"Violet," he whispered to himself.

"I know I promised I'd be on time, _this time_ ," she said with a cheerful smile, sweeping her hair back over her shoulders.

A flood of memories overwhelmed Hieronymous, reorienting him.

Of course.  He knew where he was.

"You didn't have to run all the way here," he replied, shaking his head with a small smile. "Oversleep again?"

"Y-yeah..." she said sounding slightly embarrassed.  "I wish they'd let me bring my alarm clock," she said, smiling back at him.

Glancing around to check no one was watching, she rose on her toes and kissed him.

When she rocked back on her heels, Hieronymous frowned, feeling uneasy.

"Hey, something wrong?" she asked, concerned.

"No," he paused.  "No, it's nothing," he said, the feeling slipping away.  It was a perfect spring day, he felt alive and carefree.  Ignoring the dark cloud in the back of his mind, he slipped his hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze.

She squeezed his hand back and lead them down one of the paths lined with beautiful, purple irises.

They walked along taking in the sights and talking.  He did his best to make her laugh, as he always did.  The sound was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.

"I was up late, working on Potsdam's assignment,” Violet said, stretching and yawning.  “I think it turned out really well.  Oh, before I forget, what would you like for your birthday?" she asked, her face lighting up with excitement.

He was about to reply, then stopped.

Something was bothering him again.

"What is it?" she asked, her brow creased.  Gingerly, She placed a hand on his cheek, searching his dark eyes.

"Violet..." he said slowly.  His thoughts felt slow and hazy.  "I feel like I haven't seen you in a very long time."

Yes, that was definitely it, he thought.  It sounded true.

"You're right,” she agreed.  “We haven't seen each other in a long time, because school's been out for summer."

This seemed plausible.  But it rang false.

"No, that isn't it."  Sighing, he concentrated hard, trying to find the truth gnawing away at the back of his mind, just out of reach.

He clutched her hand on the side of his face, holding it closer, as he felt a glimmer of understanding.

"You... died," he said uncertainly.

"What?"  She looked deeply troubled by his accusation.  Then she laughed at him, finding the idea ridiculous.  "I think I would remember something like that."

His was inclined to agree with her.  It was absurd.  A person couldn’t be dead, if they were standing in front of you arguing otherwise.

"Maybe you're right.  Perhaps I was mistaken," he said, running a hand through his black hair.  He tried to recall if someone else had died recently.  How could he make such a mistake, he wondered.  He tried to recall any funerals he had attended recently.

One came to mind immediately.

Hers.

"No," he said with conviction. "You died, I remember it."

"Then why am I here?" she asked in disbelief, stating the obvious.  It was tempting to agree with her.  He wanted to pretend he hadn’t remembered.  Go back to not knowing.  But he had remembered the truth and now there was no forgetting it.

"I'm dreaming,” he said with a weary sigh.  “The same dream I always have.  Meeting you at noon, on that spring day, just before my birthday."

The moment he said it, he felt the absolute truth of it.  Becoming fully aware of his dream, everything around him gained clarity, the traces of mist lifted, and his memory returned.  His high school uniform disappeared, replaced with his instructors’ robes.

"Oh, my God..." Violet said, her eyes filled with tears. "Then, I’m really dead?"

Despite being in a dream, he felt terrible being the one to tell her.

"...yes," Hieronymous said.

She turned away from him.  Her shoulders shook and he could hear her choked sobs.

Gently, he hugged her from behind, resting his chin on her head.

"I'm sorry," he said, trying to console her.

"H-hey, what are you cheering me up for?” she asked through her sobs.  “I'm not really here.  I’m not real."

"Maybe not,” he said, trying to enjoy the moments he had left with her before he woke back up.  “But, I've upset you none the less."

"Hieronymous... I'm so sorry," she said.  Turning and hugging him, she cried harder.

"It's alright, it's not your fault," he said, gently stroking her hair, trying to imagine that she was real.  The she was Violet.  Not just his memory.

"How did I die?" she asked in a pleading whisper.

He looked into the distance, seeing events of the past unfold.

Violet was screaming as he was pinned by a horde of goblins.  She cast fire spells, killing several of the creatures, fighting to save him from being ripping him apart.  Beneath his ward, his soul was safe, but his body was not.

Trapped beneath the violent horde, he was helpless to act as the goblins descended turned on her.  He watched her wards, unlike his, break in an instant.

Hieronymous looked away from the scene, her screams still ringing in his ears.  He willed the vision away and they were once again alone together in the quiet school grounds on a perfect spring day.

Violet quietly sat down on a stone bench, deep in thought.

He sat down beside her, looking up at the clouds drifting overhead.

"What happened then…” she said slowly.  “I don't blame you for any of it, you know that, right?"

"I know," he said.  Of course she didn’t.  Or, wouldn’t, rather.  He knew that.

"Do you blame yourself?" she asked knowingly.

"Of course I do," he said with a humorless laugh.  "And don't waste your time talking me out of feeling guilty.  I knew better than to bring you there."

"Yes, but it was my idea to go in the first place."

"That doesn't make it any less my fault," he replied.

"Stubborn man," she said wistfully, putting her head on his shoulder.  "Are you and Aloysius still talking?"

He snorted at the idea of talking to his father.

Violet scowled at him.

"He loves you, you know.  Don't let me being gone come between the two of you."

"You know it goes _much_ further back than you."

She sighed.

"Well, alright," she said grudgingly dropping the subject.  "What's new in your life?"

"I finished my degree and I teach at Iris Academy.  And most recently, I was coerced into getting married," he said with a chuckle, knowing it would surprise her.

"What?" she asked, sitting up straight. "You were forced into marrying someone?"

"Well, it was to save her soul.  Nothing scandalous."

"Oh," she said sitting back.  "Well, that must be awkward.  But, I must know, what is _the_ Mrs. Grabiner like?" she asked playfully.

Hieronymous thought of Gwen.

"She's impetuous, brave, stubborn, and intelligent.  Usually in that order," he added, smiling despite himself.

"Do you like her?" she asked roguishly.

"I don't dislike her."

"You know what I mean," she said, giving him a warm smile.

Seeing her cheerful look pierced the last of his defenses, making his heart ache ferociously.

"I miss you so much," he said in a choked whispered, burying his face in her hair.

The dream began to slip away, as he felt himself waking up.

"I'm always with you, stubborn man."  Her words echoed with him, even after he was awake.

His eyes flew open, and he looked around a large, stone room.

Sitting up, he looked down at his hands to see them bound to the floor by chains.

 _I could break these with ease_ , he thought to himself.  Looking up, he saw Alcinous sitting confidently across the room.

"Stubborn is right," Hieronymous said quietly to himself.  Smiling wickedly, he decided to bide his time, plotting his revenge.

 

* * *

 

Gwen wondered in vain what time it was.  Although wizards seemed to approve of most clocks as acceptable technology, this room didn't have one.  Abandoning her bed, she got up and stalked around the room, attempting to tire herself out.  Exasperated, she kicked the night stand.  

To her horror, a large vase teetered precariously on the corner, then fell.

A shadowy hand intercepted it before it could hit the ground.

"That could have been expensive," said the shadow.

Making a less than dignified sound of fright, Gwen jumped back, off of the floor, and onto the bed.

The man cloaked in shadow fluidly returned the vase to its perch.  Folding his arms, and leaning casually against the wall.

Gwen caught her breath, while he seemed to wait patiently.  Her heart was pounding violently in her chest.

She glanced toward the door, wondering if she should leave or stay, or if she should shout for help.

"Aloysius is gone," he said.  The shadow’s voice was still as deep and distorted as it had been the last time she had seen him at Iris Academy.

"You scared me half to _death_ ," she hissed at him, her pulse still thudding.

"Apologies, Lady Grabiner," he said, with a half bow.

"I’m not a lady,” she corrected.  Though her understanding of heraldry was pretty poor, so she might be right.  In any case, she thought, it sounded too proper.  “You have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don't know yours," she said, eying him with a mixture of fear and curiosity.  His smoky figure constantly rippled, as though caught in the breeze, moving around in the vague form of a man hooded in an unusual style of robes.

"My name is Agravian," he said, nodding his head.

Gwen was relieved he didn't extend his hand.  She wasn't sure if touching someone made of shadow was safe, or even possible.  And, if she was being completely honest with herself, just talking to someone made of shadow probably wasn't the safest thing either.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this late night visit, Agravian?"

"I require your assistance with a matter that is both very dangerous, and quite unorthodox.  In exchange, however, I will assist you in saving your husband, the young Lord Grabiner."

Before Gwen could reply, he raised his hand and continued.

"I can assure you, with my assistance, our success is assured."

Gwen bit her lip, unsure.  As Aloysius had pointed out, young witches didn’t belong in the Otherworld.  He had friends on the council.  All surely wiser, older, and more powerful than her.  But could they find Hieronymous in time?

“The Viscount Montague is preparing a rescue,” Agravian said, using Aloysius’ formal title.  “He heard your husband’s call though a Far Speak Location spell,” Agravian said.  He paused as Gwen’s eyes lit up.  “Ah.  He did not tell you he heard his summons.  Likely, he wants you to remain here, where it is safe.  However, the Viscount Montague does not realize he is walking into a trap.”

Gwen sighed at him.

"How do I know I can trust you?" she asked.  She wanted to.  But trusting strange, eavesdropping, shadow creatures, seemed like the very definition of a bad idea.

"You do not,” Agravian said plainly. “But the alternative is to let the Viscount Montague die.  And possibly the young Lord Grabiner, as well.”

“Hieronymous,” Gwen said with a sigh.  She thought hard for a moment.  "Can you promise you will help me rescue Aloysius and Hieronymous?  That you will make sure all three of us come back to this dimension safely?"

 _A promise in the magical world is a binding contract, after all,_ Gwen thought.  To violate it was to lose your powers and your memory, too.

"Of these things, I promise," he said solemnly, binding himself by his word.  

Gwen was surprised.  

She had expected him to offer a trade - to have her swear to something in return.  

"I will open a portal for you, when the time is right,” he went on.  “The place you are going is well guarded by both goblins and demons alike.  We will not escape without great effort.  And your novice magic skills will not be enough to combat your enemies.”

A sly grin crossed Gwen’s face as an idea occurred to her.

"I'll be prepared," she said.  Pausing, she looked up at him curiously.  "You swore an oath to help us, but never explained what you need from me in return."

"Soon," he replied.  “I mustn’t stay long.”

Raising his hand, he began to chant.  His low, guttural voice boomed, filling the room until it echoed from the wall to wall.  Black and crimson light swirled in his raised right hand, bathing the room in red light and swirls of black shadows.  Gwen stared, fascinated.

Enunciating the last three syllables of his strange spell in a roar, he lunged forward and drove his hand quick as lightning through Gwen's chest.

She gasped, feeling her blood run cold.

There was a sizzling sound, and she cried out as a burning sensation filled her chest, just below her collarbone.

“My mark," Agravian said, pulling his hand back.  "Our contract is sealed."

He disappeared, leaving her alone in the room.

The crimson light still illuminated the walls, even in his absence, but it appeared to be coming from her.

Clutching her chest where he had impaled her, Gwen rushed toward a mirror and looked at her reflection.

A bright, red rune burned brightly on the left, just beneath her collar bone.

Or, where the bone should have been.

Her body was barely visible.

She was a figure of dancing shadows, just like Agravian.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Gwen stared at her reflection in the mirror, the sight too surreal.

A crimson rune continued to blaze on the left side of her ethereal chest, bathing the room in red light.

Her body was no more than delicate wisps of smoke in a feminine silhouette.

Hesitantly, she reached out to the mirror with the wispy shadow of her hand.

Pressing firmly on the mirror, she felt a wave of relief washed over her as she felt the cool glass.  She was still corporeal and, therefore, definitely not a ghost.  The idea of haunting the world as a disembodied specter was an unpleasant one.

_Definitely not a ghost,_ she repeated, silently reassuring herself and sighing deeply with relief.

Mentally, she beckoned the room's enchanted lighting on.

The rune and shadows slowly fell away under the light, revealing her normal appearance. Her pale skin and red hair appeared beneath a dark mist.  Gradually, the darkness evaporated and disappeared.  Her eyes were the last to change back, remaining black orbs while the rest of her looked normal. The effect made her look terrifying, even to herself.

Finally, they too gave way to the white of her eyes and the dark green of her irises.

Seeing her own eyes looking back at her quelled the panic rising in her chest.

"What have I gotten myself into this time..." she muttered to her reflection.

With no desire to stay in the guest room a moment longer, she turned away from the mirror and left.

Downstairs, she found the mansion oppressively quiet. She hurried to the kitchen and retrieved a small handful of pounds from the jar and placed the coins in her pocket.  Frowning, she wished that she had her wallet so she could leave some American currency in return.

She shook her head.

Of all of the things she would regret tonight, stealing (or borrowing, with the intent to pay him back) a few dollars worth of money from Aloysius would be the least of her worries.

Sliding her feet into her sandals, she walked out of the mansion and into the brisk, night air of England.

There was a sidewalk outside of Aloysius' house, illuminated by street lamps.

Looking carefully for any sign of a pay phone, she wandered away from the mansion, mentally noting which one it was so she could find it again.

As she walked, listening to her footfalls in the silence, she played through the events of the evening.

_First_ , she thought. _Hieronymous is being held prisoner by a man named Alcinous Alden. In the Otherworld. Or, as it's known to me, the one place I should never go under any circumstances._ Sighing, she thought of much Hieronymous would deplore everything she was doing.  Especially, because it was for him.

She scowled at this.

_Second,_ she went on, turning left as the street ended in a fork.   _Agravian._

Thinking his name, she frowned and folded her arms.

_He claims he's a friend. He turned me into a shadow like him and gave me his "mark", whatever that means.  And, he's going to open a Gate to the Otherworld for me._

She shook her head and remembered Professor Potsdam's lecture on the subject of the Otherworld.

"The world you see around you is only the tiniest fraction of all that exists," she had said. "There are infinite realms which exist outside of our own space and time.  The nearest such realm is that which we call the 'Otherworld'."

Gwen tilted her head, trying to remember the rest of the lecture.  She had been thinking about her campaign for school treasurer at the time.  She momentarily reflected how winning such a mundane affair had so drastically altered her life.

"You students must not enter the Otherworld under any circumstances.  Can any of you tell me why that is?"

Minnie, one of her classmates, had eagerly raised her hand and explained how delectable human souls were to the inhabitants of that realm.  The professor had quickly interrupted and politely thanked her before she could delve into graphic detail.

"The Otherworld is a wonderful place," Professor Potsdam had continued.  "Magic flows more freely there, and many witches and wizards choose to live there full-time.  But we are not native to it, and we are not immune to its dangers.  Do not attempt to pass the Gate.  Not even with an adult to guard you. Not even with a powerful spell or artifact to protect you.  Not even with a friend who has been there before and told you it's safe.  Some of your classmates have other-than-human heritage, but what is safe for them is not safe for you.  Most importantly, if a spirit invites you to the Otherworld, do not accept, no matter what you are promised," Gwen frowned guiltily at this recollection.  "I am not saying this to frighten you, or to challenge you to find a way around my rules.  If you disobey, I will not need to punish you, because you will be gone."

Gwen stopped and looked up into the night sky.

_The professor's right.  And so is Aloysius.  I don't belong in the Otherworld._

Her eyes widened as she came to a realization.

_Of course,_ she thought, chiding herself for not thinking of it sooner.   _I can warn Aloysius he's walking into a trap.  That solves everything._

She concentrated on the Far Speak spell, a smile on her face.

_Aloysius_ , Gwen thought at him.

_Ah, Gwen_ , his voice reverberated in her mind.

She didn’t have much experience with the spell, so it still felt a little odd to her. Sometimes voices tickled her brain.  His voice, however, sounded friendly and sincere, and somehow reminded her of a warm blanket on a cold winter's day.

_Is there something I can help you with?_ his voice asked gently.

_I wanted to tell you..._ she started, but her mind shut down before she could finish the thought.

She tried again.

Her mind stubbornly refused to obey.

A worried frown crossed her face.  She tried to think Agravian's name.  The same brick wall greeted her efforts.  She tried to transmit something, anything, about her becoming a shadow, the image of the red rune, or details about Agravian himself.

_Gwen, are you still there?_ Aloysius asked with concern.

Gwen screamed out loud in frustration.

_Never mind_ , tears welled up in her eyes.   _I just wanted to say... please be careful._

_We will, never you worry, my dear,_ he replied cheerfully.

Gwen felt the connection break away.

She walked on in despair, with nothing but her thoughts for company, until a pay phone finally came into view.

Following the directions written on the pay phone, she dialed 001 and then entered her phone number.

Though it was still early morning in London, she knew it would be late evening at home.

Her father answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi Dad," she said, her own voice bubbling with happiness at the sound of his.

"Hey, that's weird," he said, sounding confused.

"What?" she asked.

"The caller ID.  There's a really long area code from your end," he replied.

"Huh, weird," she replied, trying to sound equally puzzled.  "Listen, I wanted to tell you what happened at school.  There was a lot of confusion, but," she thought back to the fictional story she had devised, "Apparently I received a scholarship to attend summer school.  All my classes are already paid for, they just forgot to tell me."

"Oh," he said. His voice sounded far away, considering the story.  "Are you going to attend the classes or come home?"

He sounded as if he sincerely believed her.

She rested her head against the glass window of the tiny pay phone box and covered her eyes.

"I think I should stay and take the classes. It would be a real waste not to use a scholarship, you know?"

"Well, alright.  We'll miss having you around for summer.  Just let us know if you change your mind and we'll come get you.  It's only a hundred fifty miles," he said jovially, as if he didn't mind driving any distance for her.

Her throat choked up.

"Sweetie?"

She coughed.

"Nothing, just thinking, you're the best dad in the world, you know that?"

"I do what I can," he replied playfully.

"Hey, I have to run, it's time for dinner, I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Sure, have fun.  I'll tell your mother."

"Thanks, love you."

"Love you, too."

"Bye," she said in a whisper.

"Good night," he said as he hung up the phone.

  


* * *

  


"Viscount," prompted a feminine voice.

" _Viscount_ ," she repeated, louder this time.

Aloysius started.

"Oh, my," he said, rubbing his eyes.  "What time is it, my dear?"

"A little after eight in the morning," she replied, handing him a steaming cup of tea.

"Oh, bless your heart, Olivia," he said accepting it and sipping gratefully.  In the ten years she had been his right-hand, he had never had a complaint about the temperature, strength or amount of cream and sugar.

_No one makes a cup of tea like Olivia,_ thought Aloysius.   _Each cup reflects the particular person._

"Everyone is briefed and ready when you are, sir," she informed him.

Olivia was smartly dressed as always, wearing a set of serious black robes.  Her short, black hair and bangs were evenly clipped, looking razor sharp.  A set of thin, black glasses framed her face, and a pair of black high heels brought her eye to eye with even the tallest members on the council.  Not a single, other soul wore heels in the large council building, so when one heard their familiar 'click-clack', they knew who to expect.  

Aloysius often imagined the sound caused a certain degree of fear for those who knew they had crossed her.

As a rule, Olivia’s arms were folded and a severe expression was set on her face.  In stark contrast to her serious appearance, she always wore a vivid shade of red lipstick.  On anyone else, it would be a delicate touch of feminine beauty.  On her, it looked more like warpaint.  Which he found far more beautiful.  But he kept such opinions to himself.

Her skill in politics made her a highly sought after second, but she would work with no one other than the Viscount Montague.

With a final sip of his tea, Aloysius set his cup down on his desk beside the picture of a young boy with shaggy, black hair.  His gaze settled on the photograph for a moment.  With a tentative hand, he reached out to touch it.  Sighing, he withdrew his hand and rested his fingers against his temple instead, giving it a longing look.

"Sir?" Olivia asked, faintly raising an eyebrow.

Olivia’s personal way of showing concern.  Offering it if he wanted it, but leaving it unsaid in case he did not.

Aloysius hid away his melancholy, slapping his hands on his desk, and sharply rising to his feet.

"Let's go get my son back," he said with a manic grin.

"Yes, sir," Olivia replied, a smile in her eyes.

Leaving his office behind, they walked toward the conference room at the end of the hall.

"I'm going to need you here looking after things while I'm away.  I shouldn't be long, but the bill regarding white magic presage needs reviewing, and..."

Olivia cut him off.  "I'm coming with you."

"I can't allow that," Aloysius replied firmly.  "I need you here."

"I wasn't asking," she said, placing her hand on the door to the conference room.

He stared hard at Olivia, but she didn't bat so much as an eyelash, opening the door for him.

The eight people gathered in the conference room fell silent and turned to look at Aloysius.

"You're welcome to fire me," she said quietly, a small smile touching her lips.

The hardened expression on his face cracked and gave way to a warm smile.

"Very well," he said quietly, grateful to have her along.  Giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze, he turned and strode into the room.

"My friends," Aloysius greeted them.  "I appreciate your coming on such short notice. I am in your debt," he said graciously.

Behind him Olivia began chanting a spell, the words clipped and articulate.

"Please, cast your wards now," Aloysius directed them.

A cacophony of commands filled the room followed by bursts of light from white runes spiraling before their casters.

"And now, carefully inspect the ward of the person to your left, then the person to your right."

While the gathered men and women inspected one another, he heard Olivia complete the ritual of summoning.  There was a shimmer in the air, followed by the appearance of a Gate.  The large gate looked, at first glance, looked like any other one might find at a wealthy estate, but on closer observation the metal was twisted into hundreds of thousands of tiny, delicate spirals.  A magnificent lock joined either side of the gate at the center, adorned with a serpent devouring its tail, and an opaque, white light emanated from within its ornate frame.

After inspecting Olivia's wards and vice versa, Aloysius stood before the Gate.

With a wave of his hand the lock fell away and the doors of the Gate opened with a faint metallic noise.

One by one, the group of witches and wizards strode through the Gate.

Aloysius blinked in the pitch black on the other side.  He felt the tingle of Otherworld magic pressing against him, as he began chanting an Awareness spell.

He heard his comrades chanting as well.  

Too late, he realized that it wasn’t the chanting of individual spells; it was a group chant.

The spell- he barely recognized it as a prison ward- went off before he could react.

Eight white runes formed a circle on the ground.

Beside him, he saw Olivia toss a light spell into the air.

"It appears we've been betrayed, sir," she said, her voice grim.  Olivia stepped in front of him, fixing her sharp gaze on the eight standing on the other side of the white runes.

  


* * *

  


Alcinous stared down at his prisoner, his arms folded.

Hieronymous' unnerving, raven black eyes intently followed his every move.  Long chains shackled his wrists to flagstones on either side of him.  He had grown bored of standing hours before, and now rested on one knee.

The two men glowered at one another.

Alcinous turned his head, listening to something.

A victorious smile was on his face, when he returned his gaze to Hieronymous.

"I have good news and bad.  The good, is that you'll have your father for company.  The bad, is that you really have no hope of ever leaving here."

"So," Hieronymous replied, "you intend on incarcerating us within this disused prison, rather than doing away with us.  If it's all the same to you," he said, folding his shackled hands to rest upon his knee, "I favor solitary confinement to the companionship of my father."

"I'll see what I can arrange," Alcinous said mockingly.  He turned to acknowledge eight hooded figures assembling behind him.

A slow, wicked smile spread across Hieronymous' lips, as a ring he wore on each of his hands glowed faintly black.

His thin, elegant fingers tapped twice on the shackles binding his wrists.  

The iron shattered like glass.

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

_One hour previously, in the Human realm…_

* * *

Gwen was fast asleep in bed on top of the covers, an arsenal of guns and ammunition spread out beside her, and a hunting knife lay on her nightstand.  

Four empty 9mm pistols laid across the patchwork quilt, while a 12 gauge shotgun laid at her feet.  Her right hand rested on the pillow by her face, clutching a 9mm magazine.

Her soft, white sun dress was discarded on the floor, replaced with a more rugged outfit. Having liberated a set of clothing from the security team's abandoned van, Gwen now wore a black, leather jacket, unzipped, with a white shirt beneath, all magically altered to fit.  A rugged pair of leather pants and solid looking boots completed the ensemble.

Her long, red hair was done back in a tight braid.

Agravian tilted his head to the side looking at the firearms.  He reached down and picked up one of the pistols.  As he was peering into the barrel, he heard a click from the bed.

Gwen was sitting up with a loaded pistol aimed at him in both hands.

Groggily, she registered the shadowy figure of Agravian unwittingly aiming a gun at himself.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," she advised.

As Agravian replaced the gun, she noticed him inadvertently pull the trigger.

_Good thing I didn't leave that loaded_ , she thought as she snapped the safety back on her gun.

Gwen sat down heavily.  She'd woken up abruptly, sensing someone else was in the room.  Now, that rush of adrenaline was gone now.

"Good morning, m'lady," Agravian said, with a small bow.

Gwen’s eyes narrowed to slits.

"I’m not a lady," she replied bitterly.  Silently, she began loading the other magazines into the other three pistols.

Agravian watched her gather the weapons together, slinging her shotgun into the holster behind her back, and the pistols into holsters on her belt and upper thighs.  Finally, she sheathed the hunting knife in her belt and looked up at him impatiently.

Agravian pointed, politely maintaining his distance.  "What are these?  'Guns', you said?"

"I didn’t say, actually…  But, yes.  They're guns," she said shortly.  Glaring at him she continued, "They're... weapons.  Just don't touch them."

She took a deep breath and folded her arms.

"Let's get this over with."

"You are upset with me," he said, stating the obvious.

She paused in the middle of zipping up her jacket to gave him an astounded look

"Are you for real?" she asked in exasperation, instead of voicing the expletive she had been thinking.

He tilted his head again, considering her words.

"I suspect you are using modern slang.  No one has ever asked if I am 'real' or not," he said, stroking his chin.

His form was still naught but shadow.  Gwen marvelled a little that no one had asked him that question in the literal sense.

Gwen took a deep breath.  His calm attitude was really grating on her nerves.  

"The last time I saw you, you _shoved a hand straight through my chest._  You turned me into a shadow creature.  And when I tried to say something to my father-in-law about all of this, my mind shut down!" her voice became steadily louder, screaming the last words at him.

Realizing her teeth were clenched, she forced them apart and said, practically in a growl, "Just open the damn gate already."

She thought she could see his wispy form wince.

"M'lady, your anger is very taxing," he said, placing a hand on his forehead.  “Please, calm-”

"Taxing?!" she shouted at him in disbelief.   _She_ was taxing _him_? she thought furiously.  After everything she'd been through in the past twelve hours, and he had the gall to…

Agravian stumbled to the bed and sat down heavily, muttering quietly to himself.

Gwen wasn't sure, but she thought she heard him whisper something about 'women'.

Agravian indicated a spot beside him with a hand.

"Please, sit and," he paused, considering his words, before continuing in a diplomatic tone, "try not to become emotional."

Gwen glowered at the shadow man, sitting heavily beside him.

"I have not been in the company of others in some time.  Forgive me.  I've been socially indelicate," he slouched forward into a comfortable position.

"I owe you a great many explanations.  To begin with," he snatched the knife from her belt in the blink of an eye.  Holding it up, he slashed the knife across his left palm.

Gwen clutched her left hand in pain.  Carefully, she removed her right hand and looked down at the cradled palm.  To her surprise, her skin was pale and unmarred.

Agravian returned her knife.

"My mark," he said, his voice as echoing and unearthly as always, "is the sign of our contract.  With it comes a bond."

"I didn't agree to be part of any contract," Gwen said defensively.

"No.  This particular contract is one-sided.  It is my burden, not yours."

"I feel your pain though…” she said, creasing her brow.  “What happens to me if you die?"

He chuckled.  The sound was oddly disconcerting due to his shadow voice.

"I am exceptionally hard to kill.  But, if I did perish, you would experience extreme discomfort, but be otherwise whole.  My rune would fade and our contract would be at an end."

Gwen swallowed.  Her anger was gone now, replaced with uneasiness.  Talking to a shadow was eerie, to say the least.

"Who, and what, are you?" she asked.

"Your people call my race 'shadow assassins',” Agravian said.  His expression remained fixed, but he was lost in thought, Gwen sensed.

She was startled, as she realized she wasn't making an astute observation.

She could actually feel his mind empathically.

"The Otherworld can wait for us a little longer," he said, as though coming to a decision. "I shall tell you a story.  

“Long ago, human wizards ventured into the Otherworld for the first time. They found it both beautiful and terrible.  Some groups of humans sought to establish cities.  They had no idea what manner of beasts lurked in the dark."

Gwen felt a slight chill at his ominous description.

"My people feast upon souls.  And human souls were unique, the taste unparalleled," he explained.

At this description, Gwen surreptitiously rested a hand on the pistol furthest from Agravian.

"Of all the denizens that attacked the new human settlements, shadow assassins were the most feared and abhorred.  A group of wizards calling themselves 'The Inquisitors' emerged."

Though he looked placid, she could feel a seething, overwhelming hatred emanating from him. The feeling was so powerful, just hearing the word 'Inquisitor', made her dizzy with anger.

"I could argue that we had lived there long before the wizards came, and that we only did what came naturally to us.  But, the reality, is that my race was far from innocent.  A short war ensued.  We lost.  The Inquisitors hunted us down, murdering every man, woman, and child."

Gwen fought down the fury rising up inside of her.  The way he had emphatically called her emotions ‘taxing’ before suddenly made sense.

"Declaring humans the only 'pure' race, the Inquisitors devoted their existence to the extermination of all other beings."

Gwen found this information shocking.  Iris Academy had never mentioned anything like it.  

Was this in later history books, or did witches and wizards do their best to forget it? she wondered.

Beneath all of his anger, Gwen felt a wave of frightful loneliness.

"How many of you are left?" she asked quietly.

"I am the last,” he replied softly, sounding deep in thought.  “Even I was nearly executed by a group of Inquisitors when I was young.  Though severely injured, I managed to escape.  It was on that day I met Talfryn."

A warm feeling of nostalgia spread throughout Gwen, making her smile wistfully.

"I had crawled into a dark alley to escape the men pursuing me,” he continued.  “I was trying to blend with the shadows, but my strength was waning.  A light snow was falling.  I hadn't realized that my blood had left a trail right to me, on that white snow."

Gwen could feel a tear roll down her cheek as he contemplated the rest of his tale.

"With no family left to return to, no one left of my race, I began to laugh.  A bitter sound, in my own ears.  Fighting so hard for my survival, I felt, was a joke.  I had nothing left to survive for.  At that moment, I looked up and saw Talfryn."

Gwen could almost see a tall, angular man with dark hair.  Dressed in black furs and splendid robes.

"I smiled up at him,” Agravian said.  “Thinking he had come to end my suffering.  My own dark angel of death, come to kill me there in the dark, with the snow falling around us."

He grew silent.

"What happened next?" Gwen asked quietly in curiosity.

"He crouched down beside me in the snow.  I stared patiently into his dark eyes, waiting.  Finally, he reached out.  To my surprise, he carefully picked me up.  He carried me back to his home and placed me under the protection of his house.  His family nursed me back to health.  

“He risked his life and his station to protect a 'shadow assassin'.  

“Touched by his kindness, I swore to protect his family until the day I died.  He was the first human I granted my mark."

Though his shadowform couldn’t show it, she could feel Agravian smile to himself.

"When he would take his shadow form, Talfryn would jokingly call himself the 'Shade of Shetlock'."

Gwen's eyes widened at the title.

"Shetlock was the name of the human settlement there," Agravian explained.

_Shetlock..._ she thought, recalling Aloysius' signature.

_Aloysius Grabiner_

_16th Viscount Montague_

_Shade of Shetlock_

Apparently the nickname had stuck, throughout their line.

"You swore to protect the Grabiners," she said.

Agravian nodded.

"In honor of Talfryn Grabiner.  The first Viscount Montague.  I have protected many generations of his house.  My race is long-lived compared to your own."

"This mark..." she said, pointing to her chest where the rune had appeared last night. "You only share it with the Grabiners?"

He nodded once more.

"Then, honestly, why me? Why not Aloysius or Hieronymous?" she asked.

"Do you remember when I told you, I needed your assistance with a very dangerous matter?"

"Yes..." she said with trepidation.

"What you see before you is not my real body.  This is a shadow projection.  My race can blend with shadows and use shadow magic, but our normal form looks human.  My physical body is imprisoned.  I sleep in the same prison where your husband, Lord Grabiner, is held.  I need you to set me free."

Gwen frowned at him.

"Why are you in prison?  Did you devour someone's soul?" she asked, feeling sick.

"Would you eat a chicken or a cow if you could hold a conversation with one?" he countered.

"Absolutely not."

"There's your answer."

She eased her hand off of her pistol, content with his answer.  Their psychic link seemed to afford her the ability to tell if he was lying or being truthful.  She sighed, wondering where she had went wrong in life that her morning musings included such thoughts as, _No, he's not going to eat my soul, I can telepathically tell the 1,000ish year old, imprisoned shadow assassin is telling the truth.  While other people my age are probably wondering if they want to sleep in,_ she thought with a small pang of envy.

"I imprisoned myself," Agravian replied.

"Come again?" Gwen asked, finding his answer unexpected.

"The Inquisitors threatened the family of the fifth Viscount Montague.  They demanded I be put to death.  Instead, I imprisoned myself with the help of a woman named Camise Grabiner. I have slumbered ever since, content the family would wake me if they had need of my protection.  This satisfied the Inquisitors, Camise told me.  Though vexed that they could not kill me, they left the family in peace."

"I'm still not sure how I fit into all of this," Gwen said.  “Why come to me now?”

"I was sealed by a member of house Grabiner, hence, only a member of the house can release me.  Those are the spell’s conditions."

His explanation for being imprisoned felt honest.  Though she still could only conclude one reason for his seeking her out.

"So, you came to me instead of Hieronymous or Aloysius.  You thought, 'only Gwen could possibly be that naive and trusting'.  Was that it?" she asked in irritation.

_Honestly, you unnecessarily rescue a man from a manus, get forced into marrying him, and you never hear the end of it!_ she thought in a huff, thinking more of what Hieronymous would say if he was there than anything else.  

He would never release the shadow assassin.

Gwen was surprised to hear Agravian snickering quietly at her.

"What?" she demanded, glaring at him.

"Apologies, m'lady, but you are amusing.  I didn't come to you because I thought you were either 'naive' or 'trusting'.  Two nights ago I was able to project my shadow for the first time in a long while.  I watched as you recklessly attacked the smug and contemptible manus ten times your superior in power to save your husband.  And forced him to yield.  In that moment, I felt us... kindred," he said with pride.

Gwen couldn't help but smile at the complement.

"I gave you my mark to protect you.  Not to anger or frighten you.  You are of house Grabiner, and I would see no evil befall you.  I thoroughly wish it was not necessary to ask you to journey into my realm.  My mark will help protect you, granting you speed and grace.  You will be able to meld with shadows and become immune to the effects of white magic.  But until I am free, you cannot make use of those powers."

Gwen blew a loose strand of red hair away from her eye, mulling over his words.

"Alright, Agravian.  I think... I trust you.  But, tell me, why can't I say your name to others?  You stopped me from warning Aloysius he was walking into a trap."

"It's dangerous to say my name with magic.  My mark prevents it, for your protection. The Inquisitors are always listening.  I have prevented you from communicating anything relating to me magically."

Gwen felt a chill along her spine.  She'd assumed these so-called "Inquisitors" were a thing of the past, not the present.

And when it came to Aloysius, Gwen privately suspected Agravian wasn’t being entirely truthful.  He might not want her warning Aloysius, because she would have no reason to come release him.  Or, Aloysius might talk her out of freeing him.  Whatever his motivations, she believed that Agravian would do anything to protect the Grabiners.  

He was almost definitely manipulating her into releasing him, she thought with a sigh.

She only hoped, it was for the right reasons.

“I am,” he said.

Gwen tilted her head at him.

“You are what?” she asked.

“Manipulating you into helping me.  For the right reasons,” he said, surprising her both with his reading her mind and with his blunt honesty.  “However, I was not lying, when I said using my name by magic is dangerous.  Please be cautious, in the future.”

Gwen stared at him for a moment.

“Well, thank you for your honesty,” she said, looking down nervously at her weapons.

"You're afraid," he said directly.  He probably sensed it, but she sincerely doubted you needed to be telepathic to figure that out.

"Yeah... Despite how I'm dressed, I don't feel like a tomb raiding, badass,” she said with a shrug.  “I don't want to be a hero.  Heroes get killed," she whispered, hugging her knees.

"I agree," he said.  "But you aren't a hero, you are an assassin.  And rest assured, no one has ever called a shadow assassin a hero."

Gwen smiled faintly, feeling slightly reassured.  Despite everything, she found she liked Agravian very much.

"Why are you willing to go?" Agravian asked, intrigued.  “I can sense your fear now, making your resolve quite fascinating.”

"You know, that's something I've been asking myself.  

“A lot.

“And, I expect it's because..." she paused, flicking the tail of her braid apprehensively.  "I couldn't live with myself if I didn't try."

She looked at him, her brow creased. Her feelings were all tangled up. She was terrified of dying, embarrassed that he could sense her fear, and self-conscious that her emotions were probably overwhelming him.

Gently, the shadow assassin draped a reassuring arm around her and let her rest her head on his shoulder.  His shadow form felt cool and oddly supportive.

"Lady Grabiner," his echoing shadow voice said, squeezing her in a small hug.  "My people have a saying in times like these.  'Cheat death, for the bastard will surely try to cheat you.'  Let us cheat death together."

"Alright," she smiled.  To her fond surprise, she found she could steel herself with his confidence through their link.

Standing up, she smoothed her jacket and hair.

"You are the first woman I've granted my mark. It's... unique," he said playfully.

"Ohhh, I pity you once a month," she said diabolically.  "We'll be hitting the cookie dough ice cream together," she added with an impish smile.  "Unless we can block out this empathy, somehow?"

"Yes, proximity makes it difficult, but it's easy at a dist-" he broke off mid-sentence.

"We have to go. Now," he said urgently.

After a hasty chant and a wave of his hand, the lock of the Gate fell away and Gwen raced through to the Otherworld.

Agravian's form melted away, his shadow projection spent from opening the gate.


	9. Chapter 9

Hugging her back against a stone wall, Gwen reached to her belt, pulling out a pistol in each hand.  The corridor was dimly lit, the enchanted lighting having dulled with the passage of time.  The magical energy of Otherworld pressed relentlessly against her mind, eager to be cast.  She found the cool grip of steel in her hands reassuring as she took in the dark, unfamiliar world.

_Gwen, you should be able to sense where I am.  Concentrate on me._

Agravian's voice in her mind sounded closer and clearer than ever.

Gwen shut her eyes, focusing on him. Intuitively, she knew exactly where he was.  Opening her eyes, she began moving cautiously down the hall, when a sudden thought froze her in place.

 _Wards!  Agravian, am I safe here without a ward?_ she thought at him.

 _My mark is better than any ward_ , he replied with certainty.

Gwen sighed in relief.

Losing her soul would be a very bad way to begin her rescue attempt.

She thought of the last time she had seen Hieronymous, and of the grave look on his face when he said he couldn't bear it if she died chasing after him.  

He had suffered quite enough loss in Otherworld and she wasn't going to add to it.  The thought gave her strength, filling her with stubborn resolve in place of fear as she ran down the passageway.

Hieronymous probably wouldn’t forgive her for coming to Otherworld, much less for freeing a shadow assassin.  But as long as he was safe, he could go on hating her for all eternity, she thought with a smile.

Gwen crept up to a fork in the path, sensing she needed to go left.  Agravian was close now.

Peeking around the corner, she looked cautiously before quietly running down the hall.

A moment later, a gang of ten goblins appeared, rounding the corner at the other end.  Seeing her, the brutish creatures let out a crazed howl, charging with terrifying speed.

Gwen came to a quick stop.  Aiming both pistols, she clicked off the safeties.

The gunshots boomed in her ears, echoing loudly between the stone walls.

She wasn't sure how many of her shots hit their marks, as the hall became clouded by storms of fog and ice and blindingly bright chains of lightning.

The bullets from her right pistol created the frost and the left created electricity.

Once the end of the hall became visible, she saw all ten creatures collapsed dead on the floor in a charred and frosty heap.

Gwen stared in surprise for just a moment before shaking herself and sprinting down the hall, following her senses toward Agravian.

Abandoning subtlety, she ran flat out, knowing someone was sure to have heard the commotion.

Charging at the frost covering the floor, she leapt onto the icy layer, letting momentum carry her all the way to the end of the hall in a slide.

Carefully avoiding the corpses, she stared at the dead goblins in amazement as she skated past.  Their smoldering bodies gave her an appreciation for the council's desire to keep magic and technology separate.

Enchanting the bullets had been a good move so far, keeping her safe from these goblins, she thought to herself.  If the authorities ever found out, there would be hell to pay, but at least she would be alive to be punished.  For now, she had an edge and she intended to use it.  Casting offensive spells was exhausting, but she could fire them in the form of bullets as long as her pre-enchanted ammunition lasted.  She didn't even need to take precious time to aim- apparently just getting near her target was enough to do tremendous damage.

Quickly rounding the next corner into a dead end passageway, Gwen raced past rows of dark cells.  Behind her, she could hear distant growls and claws on stone coming her direction.  Snapping the safeties on her pistols, she holstered them, coming to a halt before a cell shrouded in dark shadow.

Swallowing, she placed her hand on the lock and chanted an Open spell.  

Her voice wavered as she heard a piercing, inhuman shriek from not far behind.  Other barks and screams picked up the call, echoing down the labyrinth of corridors.  It sounded like a growing army of beasts was coming for her.  

Finishing the spell, she heard a click and slid the barred door open.  Stepping inside quickly, she tossed a ball of light into the air, letting it illuminate the cell.

A human looking figure lay asleep on the ground, and she knew with every fiber of her being he was Agravian.

Kneeling beside him, Gwen looked at his face for the first time.  Agravian was a handsome, older man.  Deep lines etched his face and a graying black beard revealed his age.

His clothing was from another era; an elegant, hooded, black tunic covered his white dress shirt.  Dark leather gloves and bracers with silver decorations adorned his arms.  A black cape was draped over his left shoulder beneath a pauldron, and a thick belt comprised of silver leaves and decorated leather encircled his waist.

Had she not known he was sleeping, Gwen would have thought he was dead by looking at his incredibly still body.

As she closed her eyes and placed both of her hands on his chest, she heard a nearby scrabble of claws against stone and knew her pursuers were not far off.

Gwen concentrated her energies on rapidly dissolving the layers of magic imprisoning Agravian.

A nervous sweat ran down her neck as she peeled the thick spell away, piece by piece.  She saw the binding magic in her mind’s eye as complex runes stacked across the vital points of the shadow assassin’s mind and body.  By the time she was unraveling the last layer of magic, she could hear her pursuers running in through the door.

She ignored them, knowing even if she stopped freeing Agravian and turned to fight, she didn’t have enough bullets for the army of beasts bearing down on her.

    Chills ran down her spine as she blindly listened to the creatures enter, their bare feet smacking beside her.  Using every ounce of concentration she could muster, she raced to break through the final rune as Agravian began stirring beneath her hands.

Hot breath and sharp claws touched Gwen’s cheek as something attacked her while the spell beneath her evaporated.  The next moment felt like it was happening in slow motion.  The pain and hot breath on her cheek vanished, as she felt Agravian push her away from harm, preventing those sharp claws from doing anything more than graze her cheek.

Opening her eyes, she watched Agravian spring to his feet, moving with inhuman speed.  The orc that had swiped at her staggering it to its knees, as Agravian’s fist connected with its stomach.  Launching himself over the orc, he rolled across the creature's back in a somersault.  Landing behind it, he quickly ducked a troll’s fist swinging at his head from behind and slammed his open palm against his new attacker's head, forcing it in an unnatural direction with an audible crack.

Gwen watched the troll collapse.

Glancing around, she couldn't tell how many orcs, goblins, and trolls had flooded the hall.

A pair of hairy green arms grabbed and held Agravian’s shoulders from behind as another orc ran toward him, wielding a rusty sword.  Agravian slammed his head back, colliding with the face of the orc restraining him.  Dazed, it loosened its grip, allowing Agravian to slip away just before the assailant's sword could reach him, and impale the chest of its ally instead.

A new foe stabbed a sword at him from behind.  

Sidestepping the blade, Agravian spun around beneath the still outstretched arm of this new attacker.  Following the momentum of his swing, Agravian twisted its arm back, driving the sword into the owner’s midsection.

Gwen watched as Agravian felled them one by one, his movements fluid, like those of a dancer.  He seemed to have a sixth sense, dodging and weaving assaults from all directions.  There were moments when she couldn't even follow his attacks- only saw his attackers fall to the ground.  It gave him the illusion of a walking angel of death.

When the last assailant had fallen, Gwen jumped up and stepped around the bodies to stand beside him.

Agravian pointed a hand down the hall.

"Your father-in-law is that way.  There is someone I must find."

"But, I-"

"Before we go our separate ways, know this; you can become a shadow now," he guided her to stand in a dark corner of the hall.

"Try to blend with the shadows," he directed. "Our kind calls it the 'shadowmeld'."

Gwen was oddly at home in the dark.  She felt the shadows swallow her, wrapping around her like a blanket.

Agravian nodded in approval.

"If you run into danger, call me and I will come."

He walked into a shadow and she watched him meld with it.

Becoming a faint outline, he sprinted away.

Gwen, in her new shadow form, ran swiftly down the hall.  More swiftly than she had ever run in her life.  She had always been a talented athlete in track, but in the shadows, she felt like she could fly.

A light spilled forth from a room not far off.

Slowing to a walk, she emerged from the shadows.

Inside, she saw Aloysius and a woman she had never seen before.

 _Agravian_ , Gwen reached out with her thoughts.   _They're surrounded by wards... what do I do?_

_Now that I'm free, you are immune to white magic, any white wards will shatter before you._

“Gwen?!" Aloysius exclaimed in surprise.

Gwen hastily approached a ward, looking at the wall of white light, suspended above a glowing rune.

Shoving her hand through it, she felt a strange jolt- not unpleasant or painful, so much as odd- as there was an explosion of sparks.  The ward shattered into tiny specks of light and vanished.

Aloysius looked over her shoulder, and she followed his gaze.  A manus had appeared at the door, the sole way in or out, accompanied by a nasty looking group of orcs.

Aloysius turned his gaze back to Gwen.

"How did you do that?" he asked with excited curiosity.

"Bigger problems!" Gwen exclaimed, looking at the pack of enemies.

"You're right," Aloysius said with evident disappointment, turning to face the murderous demon and monsters.

Gwen knew she was outmatched when it came to a manus.  And there was somewhere else she wanted to be.

"I'm going to find Hieronymous," she said, stepping into a shadow and disappearing before their eyes.

"Well, there's something you don't see everyday," Aloysius said in fascination.

Olivia stepped forward.

"I will handle this,” she said with a prim wave of her hand.  “Please, continue on with your errand, sir."

"Thank you, Olivia," he replied with a grateful smile.

Teleporting out into the hallway, he headed in the direction of his son, following Hieronymous’ location spell.

  


* * *

  


Hieronymous brushed aside the remains of his shackles, letting them fall to the ground as Alcinous and his eight cloaked followers looked at him in surprise.

Tossing his hat aside, Hieronymous adjusted one of his gold cuff-links.  Beneath his fingers and hidden from sight, it glowed faintly blue as he drew upon the stored illusion magic.

Regaining their composure, one of the white-cloaked men said, "You'll regret that," with a snarl.

His promise of malice was undermined by two of his allies collapsing on the floor, gasping for breath.  The man looked at the stone-faced Hieronymous in a panic.  He and the rest of the witches and wizards launched into a chaotic barrage of spells.  Either initiating  shielding magic or launching offensive spells.  Fireballs and lances of ice slammed into Hieronymous.

And passed through him.

The illusion of him flickered and disappeared, leaving an empty patch of scorched, wet ground.

"Is that the best you can do?"

Hieronymous’ disdainful voice echoed around the room with no discernible origin.

"Where _is_ he?" growled a woman in frustration.  

She cast a detection spell, as someone shouted, "There!", pointing toward an empty wall.

They all turned, staring blankly and seeing nothing.

The cloaked figure who had shouted, smirked at the back of the group.

A wave of force washed over them as they were thrown against the empty wall.

Hieronymous’ illusion dropped away, his short stature and white cloak vanishing to reveal his tall, slender figure and professor’s robes.

He made his way through the stunned bodies one-by-one, subduing them with a sleep spell.

Before he could reach them all, Alcinous and three of his men were on their feet and coming to their senses.

 _That's more than I can handle in my current state_ , Hieronymous thought with a frown.

A wicked smile crossed his lips as an idea formed.

With a snap of his fingers, his appearance blurred and began to oscillate. The rapid shifting formed into ten images of himself which split off running in different directions.

The men split up, chasing down his copies with a volley of fire attacks.

All of the Hieronymous’ chanted a spell.  As the men raced to destroy the would-be Hieronymous’, his spell, whatever it was, went off, forming a thick mist and creating mass confusion.

Wasting no more time, Alcinous spied the five remaining illusions and threw a powerful wave of force into the lot.

This time the images disappeared, but left behind three crumpled bodies on the floor in the center of the room.

"Thank you," Hieronymous said mockingly from behind Alcinous. "Your last three men could have really caused me trouble.  I didn't have the strength to deal with all of them."

Alcinous turned toward Hieronymous, face red with anger.  A vein bulged on his forehead.

"You... Will... Die!" Alcinous shouted, frothing slightly as he began to chant furiously.

Hieronymous frowned. "You just don't get it, do you?" he asked indifferently.

Alcinous attempted to hasten the casting of his spell, tripping over his own words, before losing it.

With a flick of his wrist, Hieronymous imprisoned the seething Alcinous, binding him within a ward.

"You're boring me," Hieronymous sighed.  "Now, what shall I do with you?"

Still mocking Alcinous, Hieronymous made a choked sound of surprise as a blue hand with sharp talons wrapped around his throat from behind and lifted him into the air.  Hieronymous fought and failed to remove the hand of the manus.

As Hieronymous faced his imminent death with a mixture of apprehension and irritation at the irony of dying to an assailant employing invisibility against him, he thought to himself, _Damn.  I did not see that coming._

He winced, a pained look crossing his eyes.

_No!  I don’t want my last thought to be a horrible pun._

"Kill him!" Alcinous hissed at the manus.

 


End file.
